Vigilant Scars
by polarocean
Summary: A retelling of a classic romance, Craig Dean meets a young John Paul and from there his world spirals out of control. High school, friends, dating, affairs and now he's a mutant with superpowers. What can't go wrong? McDean, AU.
1. Chapter 1 Future Unheard

The water was hot, scalding steam burning his face but no matter how many times he scrubbed it just wouldn't come off.

"Come on, Craig!" his sister, Steph, banged her fist from the outside of the bathroom, "other people have to use the bath too!"

He didn't bother to answer her, he was too preoccupied.

_It came back again_, Craig Dean cursed himself, _why do I keep waking up like this!_

It started a few weeks ago, just after his brother, Jake, admitted to killing a woman...

His brother had killed Diane Valentine in a hit and run accident.

After discovering his wife's affair with a sixteen-year old, his unborn child's possibly not being his and violently attacking the boy responsible for destroying his marriage, Jake's life had finally started to rebuild itself... until that night it came crashing down again.

Distraught over a fight with his family, the eldest Dean boy had been unprepared when he had caught Diana Valentine in the headlights of his car. She had simply dropped her keys and was bending over to pick them up when his brother had knocked her aside like a rag-doll.

His life already in a spiral downward crash, panic and self-presevation had blinded Jake to flee, though eventually his guilty psyche had won out and he confessed to everything.

The news shocked the family and the entire village... but most especially Craig.

A murder in their own house, in the room right next to his.

He went to bed to one night trying to understand how someone could take a life and just walk away. Those thoughts were gone however the next morning...when he awoke to find his fingers were coated in metal.

There was no other way to explained it, his first morning it looked like he had dipped his digits in chrome paint, now it was spreading.

He still didn't know how he had managed to get out of his bedroom, down the hall and into the bathroom without anyone seeing his arm. Everything below his elbow was gone, consumed in jarring yet glossy steel skin.

His fingers flexed again, even if they held the look, weight and strength of metal they still moved like his normal skin.

"Craig!" now it was his mother knocking against the door, "hurry up. You'll be late to your first day of courses!"

_Just calm down_, he coached himself,_ stop panicking and it will soon go away_.

Deep breaths, the hot air and steam burned on the back of his throat but slowly he started to relax.

The tingling ran down his nerve endings and making Craig shiver as he fought down a smile, trying with all his might to keep himself calm. It was prolonged and gradual but soon the warm flesh of his normal skin began to break through as the silver armoring dissolved back into his body.

"CRAIG!" his mother's shrill voice nearly caused him to leap out of his skin.

"Coming," he shouted back, flexing his now normal and skin covered fingers once to make sure they were back to normal before finally pulling on his uniform.

Hopefully this day would go better then the rest of his morning. He had managed to hid his status as a mutant from his family, how hard could all of Hollyoaks be?

* * *

"Where's my jumper?!" John Paul yelled as he tossed another pile of clothes off the couch, searching in vain for the piece of clothing.

"You do this every morning!" his mother yelled, walking passed with an basket full of folded linens.

WIth seven children Myra Mcqueen was far from free of the consent burden of waling and indignant mouths looking for a meal or someone to shout at. The joy of being a single mother to an entire gaggle of hormone ridden children who enjoyed to drive their mother up a wall every second of everyday.

But she was use to it since she was fourteen-years old, an unwed teenage mother tossed out onto the streets with her newborn in arms. Myra Celestine Maxine Philomena Portia Mcqueen was a survivor after the fact and at forty-years old she knew all the moods, emotions and stuble nuisances of her children. If anything she may not have been the best mother but she loved her children, sometimes to the point of smothering.

"Now," Myra announced as she dropped the laundry basket on the kitchen counter, "I hope you have a good day at classes but I'm off with your sisters. Your brother is suppose to give you lot a ride if he ever shows."

As if on cue the oldest Mcqueen boy, Matthew, came through the front door, followed close behind by the youngest.

"I don't see what a few quid would mean to you!" Michaela Mcqueen shouted at her brother, already clad in her school uniform.

"Because your just going to spend it on drugs, a fake ID or God forbid... tampons," he retorted, a smirk played across his lips at the indignant look on his little sister's face to reward his comment.

Matthew Brownlow Mcqueen was the oldest of the Mcqueen siblings and by far the oddest. Strong willed, incredibly caring and towering over most members of his family, Matthew could easily have won any 'Nice-Guy' award... if it weren't for his sometimes mysterious and calculating mind that unnerved many who didn't know him personally... and also due to the fact he was the only heterosexual male working at the local salon, Evissa, as their newest stylist.

That one always sent a few eyebrows up from the local female population of the village and some jolly ribbing from the males.

"Why you..." her sentence immediately cutoff as the teenager's hands suddenly burst into flames.

A normal individual would have screeched in agony, horribly burned or in blinding pain but instead the juvenile just stamped her feet before lobbing a blaze of flames at her sibling.

The response was a blast of freezing air that slammed into the furious red comet, dousing the flames in an instant as a wash of snowflakes peppered the room.

"What have I told you!" Myra shrieked at the most junior member of the household, not bothering to pay a hint of attention at Matthew who was shaking a good deal of ice from his hands as she continued her triad. "No powers in the house!"

"Its not our fault Mercedes electrocuted her last boyfriend when they were snogging!" Michaela shouted back.

Michaela Chelsea Margaret Mcqueen was the last of the Mcqueen sisters and more alike to her oldest brother then they'd care to let on. Both known for being calculating and mischievous, Michaela lacked the maturity of Matthew had gained over his last two and a half decades and as such still held tight to her teenage selfishness and lack of foresight. Her most defining feature however was her fun-loving personality that endeared her to most people, a trait Matthew lacked to great excess.

"Oi, don't blame her," Matthew countered in defense of his sister, "Jacqui's the one who magnetized the silverware in the first place!"

The yelling, the shouting, the unceasing annoyance, John Paul was not the least bit surprised when he found himself pinching the bridge of his nose as a pain began to spring up in his forehead.

"Still getting those headaches, love?" Myra noted her youngest son's discomfort.

"They'll go away soon," John Paul waved off, trying to get out the door just a little faster without any further delay.

"Maybe I should to take you round the Barnes' later, see if he can fix whatever's wrong," Matthew suggested.

"Why do you insist on taking him to that witchdoctor?" Myra spat at the idea. "He's nothing but a nutter."

"Better then the hospital, mum," the oldest contended. "We don't want them catching something from a blood test or something. You don't have to blow up a building now to know you have an X-gene."

John Paul rolled his eyes, not wanting to be pulled into another family brawl, as he finally managed to pull his wrinkled jumper from a pile of bras and a number of female underwear or oddities.

"Move it, Michaela!" he shouted behind him as he made a quick exit, not wanting to be on the tail end of another one of his mother's rants.

One year of school left to complete and then he'd be free from the hectic life of the Mcqueen women and their incessant need to yell at every qualm life sent their way.

But one year was time enough for so much to happen.

* * *

The school yard was a hustle of hurried movements, rushing to finish homework assignments forgotten and catchup on social drama missed from the summer vacation.

But in the hurried motions, Craig continued on a slow path, not really wanting to be noticed or become involved with the general populous of the school population.

He almost clear from detection until ran headfirst into the last person he wanted to encounter.

Sonny Valentine, son of the late Diana Valentine, stared him down, eyes filled with hate and rage burning into his form as Craig managed a meager "Excuse me" before disappearing into the building.

Ever since the judge had ruled Jake's hit and run a simple 'accident' and released him with nothing more then two-years probation, Sonny had taken the news badly. Though he was restrained by his older brother Calvin from striking out at his mother's killer, he was free from restriction on Craig, who was a much easier target anyways.

Unlikely to fight back, wanting to go unnoticed, no friends around or willing to defend him... it was an amazing outlet of pent up angst.

As Craig disappeared into the building, he tried not to think about the pair of vexing orbs behind him then sent a shiver down his spine.

* * *

They were late, so very late and it was only there first day.

How he groaned at Matthew's dreadful driving, the man took to the road like he was trying to run down every person in his sights. Still if they had walked that would have meant they'd be even worse off so John Paul stifled his groan.

Behind him, Michaela snapped her fingers as she trailed after her older brother, a spark of fire playing over her finger tips.

"If you smell like smoke again," John Paul mumbled, "they'll throw you out."

"Oh what?" she mocked his tone in a higher voice, "the only person in this house without any powers is going to tell me how to use them. Your not even a mutant!"

"Shh," John Paul silenced her quickly, a hand clapped over her mouth as he looked around, making sure no one had heard them. "You know mum doesn't want us talking about this in public. What do you think they do to mutants who can't keep there big mouths shut?"

The threat was more then enough to get Michaela to shut her mouth.

She failed to notice the pain expression on John Paul's face however as he hurried her into the school building.

* * *

Craig sighed in relief as he pressed his back into the cool walls of the common room.

He had managed to avoid Sonny for the better part of the day, which was no small feat in itself considering the first course of the day had them sitting on opposite sides of the room from each other.

"If your looking for the way out this isn't it."

Craig turned at the sound of a male voice, catching a glimpse of a blond boy, just a hair breath around his height, sitting in one of the chairs along the wall with a pair of headphones hanging from around his neck.

"What?" Craig asked, unsure of the remark.

"Weren't you suppose to leave last year?" he asked, not bother to reiterate the first statement.

"Do I know you?" Craig questioned.

"No idea," he shrugged, "John Paul."

"Craig," he offered to this strange boy who had piqued his interest as he took the seat across from him. "You know I didn't get the grades I wanted so...well I passed, just a couple of points short so I'm taking another year."

"Great," John Paul paid no heed to his explanation.

Usually Craig would have ignored such a comment and disdained any further contact but for some reason this kid just kept egging him on.

"So why are you in here?" Craig couldn't help himself to ask a question just as poignant as John Paul's, "instead of out there with the rest of them?"

The sound of laughing and stumbling caught both their attention, either head turning to watch as Sonny Valentine and Justin Burton almost fell into the common room in a fit of jovial rumbling. However the moment the new arrivals entered both quieted themselves as they saw who was seated across from them.

"No reason," John Paul muttered cryptically.

"You wanna go somewhere else?" Justin tried to push Sonny back at the door but the boy slid out of his grasp.

"Nah," Sonny said, crossing the room in one stride and vaulted over the couch, pressing himself down next to a very uncomfortable Craig. "I got everything in my sights."

Trying not to draw attention to himself, Craig sank a little deeper into the couch.

He knew he was in a hot water and it was also going to get worse but maybe if he just ignored the situation, Sonny would loss interest and leave him alone.

A very stupid assumption.

Less then a minute later Craig was staring at his homework notes all over the floor before him.

He had the binder in his hands just a moment ago, but somehow it had ended up on the floor.

Craig tried no to pay attention to the fact that Sonny had slapped it from his fingers without so much as an "Oops".

However he did notice when Sonny's foot crunched atop his palm as it went down to reach for the lost item.

"Shh," Sonny's couldn't help the edge and coldness in his voice as he ground his shoe onto Craig's appendage, "have a look around, no one is going to come to your rescue and this is what it is going to be like everyday."

He was right and Craig knew it.

Everyone knew what his brother had done and regardless of his involvement they knew the taking of another life was a slippery slope of morality when you came to the aid of those who had committed the crime versus the one that had lost it.

"Sonny?" Justin's pleading question was enough to get the boy's scrutiny.

A quick nod at a approaching group of students being ushered on by a teacher was enough of a silent warning to get him to back off.

"Bye, Craig," the pressure removed itself from his hand and Sonny quickly retreated out of sight, sending Craig a terrible smirk at his personal object of his fury.

His act of violence yet was for nought as Craig had been more interested in the fact that he was feeling no such pain from Sonny's foot on his hand. Instead he was terribly afraid the boy would have seen the chrome armor creeping up and over Craig's wrist.

Quickly slipping his sliver hand into his jumper he watched for Sonny's timely exit as he willed himself to calm down. The crackling of the living steel finally started to lessen as it was reabsorbed into his normal flesh and finally after a minute of concentrated effort he managed to withdraw his fist without so much as a glint of metal upon it.

_Thank god_, he sighed inward to himself.

He had been concerned that something like this would happened, caught in the open when he went through one of his '_changes_'. The sickening hole inside of his stomach seemed to drop to a new level as he looked around, hoping no one had paid any attention to his stoic attitude.

But no one had come to his aide either and for some reason that burned all the more inside his heart.

How was he going to keep this up any longer, the consent threat of being discovered, hiding himself from a person who was making it his mission to hunt him down. And now with his condition weighing on his thoughts, it was just starting to become too much.

He wanted nothing more then to be a normal boy again, thinking about problems like girls, his exams, what was for lunch.

Gathering up his stuff he pressed the current events and their results from his mind since he was probably already late to his next course.

* * *

Bathrooms always smelled like cleaning products and a hint of urine. No matter what public restroom you found yourself in, everything was coated in that smell.

Notwithstanding the pungent odor that overpowered his senses, he wasn't here to utilize the facilities for their intended use, instead using the porcelain thrown for a place to hid then a place to do his business.

_"Your not even a mutant!"_

The words continue to repeat over and over again in his memories, like a bad commercial that kept playing over and over again on the television.

All his siblings had powers, why not him. His older brother could throw ice, his sisters magnetize metal, create earthquakes, turn into water or shot lightning bolts just with a wave of their hands.

But why not him?

Even his little sister could throw fire around like it was the easiest thing on the planet.

How could a family of mutants have one human in the bunch?

_Oh sure mum would be so relieved,_ he grimly laughed to himself,_ having a normal in a household of weirdos._

He kicked open the stall door, giving little thought to the shoe print he had left on the surface.

What did he care about?

Being the only normal person in the entire Mcqueen clan could be a godsend in disguise. But that didn't mean he could stop feeling like being the odd one out in the bunch.

Did it?

Sliding out of the bathroom he found the halls quiet and empty, most everyone right now was in class or at lunch. He was suppose to be in his calculus course but after the substitute had failed to show it didn't take long for the class to abandon their work.

Coming about the corner however caught his sight,

Sonny and Justin, arguing.

Sonny wasn't a particularly nice person to...well everyone. But he had grown a special place of hate in his heart for Craig Dean.

Pressing back around the corner he watched as the two had words, the distance was too great for him to hear anything but since Sonny was gesturing widely and Justin was trying to keep him from heading off it was obvious who was the one upset.

Finally it seemed Justin accepted defeat as he took position with his back against the wall outside the common room doors.

Sonny on the other hand seemed to have gained a fair degree of confidence at his victory and strutted past. As the common room doors opened John Paul caught sight of who Sonny was heading right for...or more certainly the only sight in the empty common room.

Craig sitting on one of the sofas.

_Justin's playing look out while Sonny goes in for the kill_, he thought to himself.

This was not going to end well for anyone.

* * *

"Look who I found."

Craig couldn't help cringed at the sound of Sonny's voice echoing through the room.

He knew this wasn't going to end well, no matter which way you spun it Sonny was out for blood, his blood. Didn't matter who had done the wrong to his mother, he was related to the proprietor and the closest to vent the rage of loss at.

Snatching up his bag and trying to escape another triad of a hurt Valentine, Craig was intercepted and quickly shoved against the most convenient wall.

"Hit me!" Sonny shouted the moment he had Craig pinned.

_Did he see_, Craig's mind spiraled wildly as anxiety and the threat of exposure raced around his skull, _does he want to call me out?_

He couldn't have, and slowly Craig started to come down when he realized the true reason of Sonny's insistence of violence.

Sonny wanted a reason for his wrath, some evidence that Craig was as horrible as Sonny thought he was.

Well he wasn't going to justified this acting out with more violence.

"No," the words were quiet but Craig managed to push them out.

"Come on! Hit me!" his aggressor continued to batter him with. "What's wrong with you?

"I said no, alright," Craig's voice started to raise in volume as he started to gain some confidence. Sonny wasn't going to goad him. "I'm sorry what happened to your mum but its got nothing to do with me."

"Don't you mention her!" That comment only managed to magnify Sonny's ire.

"Why not?" Craig countered, his own temper starting to rise. "That's what this is about. I am sorry but its not my fault."

"NO!" Sonny's voice dropped to a growl.

With as much force as he could muster, Sonny slammed Craig back into the wall, the harsh plaster sending a echoing thud through the room.

What caught Craig's attention and not Sonny's, was that it wasn't the sound of someone hitting a generic plaster wall.

It was the sound of a metal clang.

"It was your brothers fault," Sonny bellowed. "He ran her down and then just drove off...like she was a dog. Why didn't you stop him, instead of driving off? Leaving her dying in the road. Come on tell me!"

"Don't know..." the confidence he had before was escaping Craig as he became more interested in the creeping feeling drawing up his back.

"Imagine the pain," the opposition whispered in his face, enjoying how the spit from his words hit Craig's face, "laying there, knowing no one is coming to help you."

The sound of a door opening and a urgent whisper suddenly broke the tension.

"Sonny don't," Justin called out, trying to pull his friend back from the brink.

But it just wasn't enough.

"Stay out of this!" Sonny growled.

Just the same the sudden blaring of the fire alarm overhead was enough to get the infuriated boy to back down a little bit.

"We could all get chucked out on our first day!" Justin's grave ploy still wasn't good enough.

"This is between me and him," Sonny shot back.

"We gotta leave," now Justin had to physically pry the fellow back from Craig and finally it was just the right amount of pressure to gain some sort of logic from Sonny.

Retreating back through the common room doors Craig finally let out a ragged breath, both in relief and a adequate amount of terror.

He had been close, if Sonny had only...he didn't want to think of near he had been to being outed as mutant.

Reaching a hand down he pulled the hem of his shirt up, not wanting to look but having to just confirmed what he had feared.

Sparkling sliver metal covered his entire torso and as Craig snaked his fingers around the back he could feel it covering every inch of his spin.

_Its getting worse_, he thought to himself.

The first morning he had woken up like this it had just been his finger tips, then his whole hand the day his brother turned himself into the police, his entire left arm this morning and now his entire lower body and most of his right shoulder were consumed in this living steel.

It was getting worse...like everything else in his life.

* * *

The hot summer air felt good and no matter if in another month it would be swallowed up in the cold and rain of fall, John Paul felt good under the powerful sun. Laying back on the school wall, he had to admit these moments of quiet made the deafening loudness of home and the suffocating boredom of school almost bearable for these moments of reprieve.

So preoccupied in his own personal recreation he almost didn't notice as Craig trudge passed him in his own little world.

"Relax," he called after him and though his lips did not show it he was snickering on the inside, "Sonny's gone."

Slowly but surely Craig turned to regard the boy leaning against the wall.

"Why you hanging around here?" he had to ask, not bothering to hide his contempt.

"Waiting for my kid sister, Michaela," John Paul shrugged to Craig's seething attitude. "If your scared I could get her to walk you home?"

That managed to crack the hard exterior of Craig Dean as the displeasure look on his face dropped a bit, an act not missed by John Paul.

"That'd be a great end to the day. First theirs the humiliation of walking in, then there's Sonny wanting to kill me, not to mention I was all..." Craig had to mentally slap his mouth shut from sputtering that last bit of information and quickly hiding it around another, "...all these idiots who think setting off a fire alarm is a right laugh."

Sighing John Paul pushed off the wall and steadily paced passed Craig, his aloofness of the situation only helping the dark-haired boy's blood boil.

"Maybe that idiot was just trying to watch your back," he finally murmured as he moved continued on out pass the school-gates, "ever thought of that?"

Craig's ears perked up at that assumption, but more so noting the agitation in John Paul's voice.

"What?" he asked, rushing to catch up to the other boy who was not stalking off.

"Huh," John Paul glanced at his watch, not paying any attention to his pursuer, "she must have already left."

"Hold on, what'd you say," Craig scurried up next to John Paul. "Hold on! Was it you!?"

"You can get kicked out for pulling a stunt like that," John Paul uttered at the Craig's implication.

"Tell me!" the former shot back.

Sighing John Paul gave in.

"I saw Sonny follow you inside," he confessed. "Just wasn't shaping up to be a fair fight."

He didn't want to elaborate of what he had to go through though to pull off such a stunt.

* * *

"Come on," John Paul argued with his sister twenty minutes previous. "Just do this for me."

"No," Michaela hollered at him from her locker. "If they catch us, you'll just be booted out, I'll probably get carted off to be sectioned! I don't want to end up like Jacqui!"

"I'll give you twenty quid," he tried to bribe her.

"No!" the blonde howled right back at his attempt.

"You can rummage round in my stuff all you like," John Paul tried another chance to gain her cooperation.

"Not a chance, John Paul," Michaela shrugged him off as she continued to fool around inside her locker for her missing history text.

John Paul knew Michaela could be stubborn but he was not about to be deterred.

It was time to change his tactics from bribery to blackmail.

"I won't tell mum who set fire to the Carrington's trellis last month!" his voice was barely a whisper but it was enough to catch her attention.

"How'd you..." Michaela shouted before she brought her volume down considerably as not to draw attention to themselves. "How'd you find out about that!"

"You should really invest," John Paul dismissed, "in some better passwords on your computer."

She ground her teeth together, weighing her options and chances of survival in both situations. Caught by the authorities or caught by her mother. She fear Myra Mcqueen's rage far more then a lifetime in a mental institution.

"Fine," she answered a with her eyes still bearing down on her brother who was forcing her into such an action she pointed her hand skyward and fired a pellet of fire at the nearest smoke detector.

The alarm was immediate the second the super-heated ball of air raced passed it's sensor. It wasn't enough to entice the sprinklers to break themselves open but it was ample to get the bells ringing across the school.

"Now were even!" Michaela screamed over the sound of doors opening, students clamoring out into the hallways and instructors directing them along. "And then some!"

* * *

"Thanks," Craig said, and for once he was truly sincere about it.

Nodding, John Paul turned and slung his back pack across his shoulder and started to head off.

But quickly he turned back towards Craig one last time.

"You for someone who says he just wants to keep his head down," he observed, "you do a pretty good job calling attention to yourself."


	2. Chapter 2 Brazen Brothers

The sun was high and only a few clouds to challenge it's dominance.

Most of the school-yard was filled, kids sunning themselves or enjoying a quick bite before heading back to another round of dismal and boring classes.

One student on the other hand had no interest in being outside.

Buried head first in his work, John Paul tried to block out the sounds of laughter and talking that echoed in from all directions. Calculus homework wasn't going to finish itself, especially after his older brother sneezed this morning and froze his book to the counter top, much to the annoyance of their mother.

So deluded in his attempt to make a proper grade, he didn't hear Craig's arrival until the boy finally spoke up.

"You're taking a risk," the arrival laughed, leaning against the door frame, "aren't you."

"Doing what?" John Paul didn't even brother to look up at the question.

"Sitting around, surrounded by fire alarms. You think you can control yourself?" When his response didn't illicit either reaction or acknowledgement Craig decided to change his tactics a bit. "Why'd you do it?"

"Told you," John Paul still didn't look up from his book as he answered Craig, "I didn't like the odds."

"Well," Craig babbled, "you could have stood up to me in person."

"Fight your battles for you?" that managed to get a reaction as John Paul actually looked up at him in near disbelief. The moment he realized he fell for the ploy he turned back to his studies. "Besides my way was smarter."

"And what if you got caught?" Craig had to ask the obvious question that had been nagging him for the better part of the night.

"I didn't now," John Paul admitted, "did I?"

"Thanks anyway," Craig responded after a pause.

Pushing off the doorframe the older boy circled the room, eying everything that made this a place of education and learning, everything that wasn't John Paul.

"When I left, I thought that was it. End of an era," he grumbled, tracing his fingers along the edge of the chalkboard. "Yet here I am, back in this dump. Surrounded by a bunch of kids."

The rustling of someone packing their school bag caught his ears and he turned about to find John Paul shoving his books and papers into his backpack with a perturbed look on his face, making ready for a hasty departure.

"What the matter?" Craig asked.

"I'm going to go find Sonny," John Paul responded as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "See if he wants someone to hold his coat for him while he gives you a good kicking."

The sudden change of attitude was a shock to Craig.

"What's got into you?" he wanted to know.

"You don't want to be here. Alright, we get it," John Paul called out as he stared Craig down, who suddenly withered back a bit. "But you are and the reason is that you messed up, so why don't you stop acting like that your better then everyone else when your not."

"I'm sorry," Craig admitted after a heartbeat.

Sighing John Paul shrugged it off.

"Don't worry about it," he mumbled.

"Do you want to hear something even more pathetic," the smirk on Craig's face was enough to get a nod of agreement from John Paul. "The truth is I really used to look forward to going to school."

"Yeah?" the blonde asked, though he should have laughed his tone seemed genuine, actually encouraging for Craig to continue.

"Yeah. If you knew my family you'd understand why," Craig explained. "I have two sisters, both drama queens, a curse they inherited from my mother and there's my brother."

"The one who ran over Sonny Valentine's mother?" John Paul knew the moment he asked that question it had been the wrong avenue to pursue.

Craig's face immediately dropped into a scowl.

"Judge said it was an accident," he hissed, though it began to soften. "Sonny disagrees."

"Just stay out of his way," John Paul stated the most obvious plan of action.

"I'll keep that in mind," Craig muttered, wanting nothing more then to change this touche subject. "What are you doing in here?"

"I like the quiet," John Paul indicated.

"Is that it?" Craig quizzed, hoping for something more.

"Yeah. That and I don't want to mess my exams up like some people," John Paul almost kicked himself in the mouth for that one.

_Why am I so snippy around him_, he thought to himself, watching as Craig's face turned several shades of bright red.

"Wasn't as simple as not putting the work in!" Craig said angrily. "Things were going on. You got no idea."

"Your right. I'm sorry," he apologized and again Craig's temper began to fall. "I just wanna pass my exams so I can get outta here."

Craig's featured softened. Rarely these days people apologized for their actions around him. To get someone to say it and then mean it, well that was one of the rarest things he saw nowadays.

Living under Sonny's thumb was horrible, home wasn't at better with the tensions rising among his family. Pour on the fact that he was a mutant, an object of disdain among both groups, he had very few chances to relax, unwind.

John Paul, for some reason he felt almost normal around him. They bickered over school, family, trivial stuff. That's what he wanted so much, to be treated normal.

"Where do you wanna go?" Craig finally asked, throwing the previous comment to the wind.

"The States...Australia...anywhere," he joked, probably meaning the last one a bit more then he let on.

"I've always wanted to drive coast to coast in America," Craig conceded.

"Me too," they both smiled over their mutual ambitions. "Although it turns out you need a license, there's a law or something."

"Think I fail every exam I take?" reaching into his pocket Craig withdrew his wallet and handed it over. A blurred but recognizable picture stared back at John Paul from the license, a very horrible representation of Craig on the drive's license.

"Cool," John Paul granted. "You got a car then?

"No, ah," Craig kind of admitted halfheartedly, waiting for some more ridicule at his misfortunate, "not as such."

"Still, nice photo," John Paul instead supplied. Taking the weight off of Craig's nerves.

Looking around he noticed the clock stated they had a good deal of time left on their break.

Why waste it sitting around in a classroom when they'd be doing that for the rest of the day.

"You eaten yet?" Craig put forward.

"No," John Paul answered, "Why?"

"Wanna go in the canteen," the other boy petitioned, a bit nervously. "If your hungry?"

"'Kay," John Paul accepted as he pulled his backpack on.

"So you like the quiet," Craig asked as they departed the room, "eh?"

"Not met my sisters, have you?"

* * *

The front door slide open and quickly backpacks were dropped on the floor, shoes kicked off and school jumpers thrown atop. John Paul and Craig laughed as they tossed back and forth, joking about their teachers horrible attempt at humor during class, only to come off an even bigger fool then they thought of him before.

But as they pushed in John Paul's eyes fell on something large and shiny on the floor.

"Mum? Where'd you get this? Brilliant!" he couldn't help but hid his glee as he picked the snowboard off the living room floor. But he put it down as he noticed the stranger sitting on the couch. "Oh?"

"This is Russ," Mercedes calls from the kitchen, supplied as her and his mother continued their preparations of dinner.

Mercedes Maria Theresa Immaculata "Mercy" McQueen, third in the family, could only be explained as ultimately headstrong and brash, not a compliment when you were comparing against the rest of her family. It sometimes came off as rude but if you looked closer it was really the time honored insecurity of a beautiful girl attempting to understand how her sex appeal never seemed to land her true love.

"Mercy's new boyfriend," Myra added affectionately, gaining a small hint of happiness in Mercedes eyes.

Russ Owen smiled as he approached his girlfriend's youngest brother, extending a hand and eagerly shaking the boy's hand while nodding to the other behind him.

Easy going and naturally mature, Russ was a ladies many around the village and was known for being very vocal about his opinions. When your dating Mercedes McQueen, or any of the McQueen household, that was a must.

"Oh right," John Paul accepted the handshake before remembering that he himself had brought a stranger into this household. "This is my friend, Craig Dean."

"Hi," Craig shock the man's hand.

"Yeah he's staying with us until Jacqui comes," Myra entered the living room, cleaning off her hands with a towel. "Now bring your friend in here so we can meet the boy."

"You must be mad," John Paul laughed, gaining a shout of indignation from Myra.

"Hey, watch your lip!" she chastised her youngest son as she approached the other newcomer. "Nice to meet you Craig. Myra McQueen, mother to this lot. Staying for dinner?"

"Well..." Craig stammered, a bit unsure if he should without the consent of John Paul.

"Brilliant," Myra however took his hesitation as confirmation. "Mercy, set another place at the table, we have a guest. Have a seat my dear, well get the meal on."

Heading back to the kitchen Myra didn't see the shot of confusion Craig sent John Paul, who only smiled and shrugged.

"John Paul's got friends now?" Mercedes whispered the moment she was back at the stove.

"Oi," Myra snapped back, "keep your mouth shut. And you know the rule when guests are over. I don't want to see any funny business with a human in the house."

Footsteps thundered down the stairs, the bouncing black curls of Tina McQueen bouncing on her shoulders as her little sister Michaela raced to catchup with her.

"I just don't see why you won't help me with my homework?" the blonde shouted as her darker skinned sibling just rolled her eyes at the comment.

"There's a difference between helping you with your homework," Tina tried to be as kind as possible but even Michaela could wear on her last nerve, "and doing it for you!"

Tina Chastity Imelda Patrice McQueen was forth in line of the McQueen household and by far the most different then all her siblings. Not just her psychical appearance, having a Black father and a White mother did leave her with a milk-chocolate complexion over the stark alabaster skin most of her family had, Tina was an almost popular opposite to most of her sibling's trademark insanity. Quiet, shy, studious, the prefect child that never spoke out of turn, she enjoyed being considered the one shining example that not ever McQueen was eventually mad.

"Fine..." Michaela huffed, however her eyes caught sight of the boy standing beside her brother. "Oi, your that brother of Jake Dean, the one that ran down my friend Sasha's mum."

Craig's mood quickly deflated and the corners of his mouth dropped into an immediate scowl.

"Michaela!" John Paul shouted in outrage and total embarrassment.

"How about you help me with dinner, huh?" Tina offered, to which Michaela took the bait. Ushering her off she managed a strained smile for the boys, "Food, always best to distract a teenager!"

They departed but John Paul could feel the damage had already been done.

"Listen," Craig whispered as he didn't want to arouse the attention of his friends overly boisterous mother. "Maybe I should just go."

"No, don't go on account of Michaela," John Paul smirked. "She's always spouting off insults left and right. Mom will give her a good pop later for that one and you don't want to miss out on that, do ya?

It was enough to gain a smile from Craig and any further discussion was lost as the sound of the front door opening and the last two members of the family entering cut off anything else.

"I just don't see why you get the bigger tips," Carmel was still dressed in her salon work clothes as she strutted into the house. "It's not fair!"

Carmel Celine Marguerite McQueen was the second to the youngest McQueen, a year older then John Paul and sporting much of the same features as her younger brother. Both John Paul, Carmel and and Michaela shared the same father and as such they were the only blondes in the household, though Carmel took great pride in her looks as an almost prefect blonde bimbo. Not the brightest tool in the shed, Carmel had often been regaled to the position of beautiful and buxom airhead of the family, though her unceasing compassion and understanding had endeared herself to her siblings, mother and many others who truly knew her.

"You file the girl's nails while their hair dries," Matthew gripped as he outpaced his sister to get to the kitchen and the resulting food much faster. "I on the other hand cut the hair and let's face it, I love much better doing it then you."

"Mum!" she shouted at the jib, "Tell him to be nice."

"Carmel, honey, your far too old for me to play that game anymore," Myra sighed as she tried to resist the puppy dog eye's Carmel was flashing at her, even as she noticed the triumphant smirk on Matthew's face. "And you! Be nicer to your sister. Just because you don't live under my room anymore doesn't mean I can't whoop your behind around the village like I used to."

"Dinner almost ready?" John Paul interrupted, praying silently that his friend would not have front row seats to a legendary McQueen fight.

Supper at the McQueen household was nothing short of controlled chaos on a level imaginable only by God himself.

The entire time however Craig and Russ remained at the table, unsure if they should help or out of fear of becoming trapped in the maelstrom.

John Paul ducked as Mercedes turned quickly with the steaming roast, just barely getting out of the way as his sister stumbled along. Joined now by Tina, gravy was almost splatter onto Mercedes who yelled in outrage over the possible ruining of a blouse, to which Tina vehemently apologized for. Michaela, who Craig remembered from school, was shooed away from the food by Myra before she could sneak a bite. And behind them, Matthew and Carmel argued over the proper way to make the biscuits, whether to hot or too long in the oven, neither could agree on, so the argument continued.

Finally after what felt like a fortnight, the food was delivered and the dinner commenced.

"So Craig, love," Myra asked, stirring an ample amount of gravy into her mash potatoes. "You and our John Paul in the same class?"

"Yes ma'am," he nodded, a bit un-use to this level of family intensity. "We have a few courses together."

"Nice, nice," she accepted with a smile. "So hard moving to a new town and having friends makes it all the easier."

"Oh, Russ," Mercedes asked, "would get my purse for me?"

"Sure," her boyfriend responded without a second thought and was off up the stairs as the conversation continued.

"You're A-levels are coming up aren't they?" Tina inquired from the other end of the table, both boys quickly nodded their affirmation, "Looking at any universities, Craig?"

"Trinity," Craig answered, " they're holding an-"

The conversation suddenly came to an abrupt halt when the entire table heard a new voice shout out from the living room.

"What do you think your doing?!"

"Hang on," now it was Russ' voice that was breaking their attention, "you got it all wrong."

What happened next was shocking of all, most of all to Craig.

One moment the table was set and food was cooling, the next Russ was flying across the room and landing with a resounding boom and a shout of surprise from the diners. Food splattered in all directions, the back of Russ' head came down hard on the handle of the gravy boat, sending the container and its contents soaring upward with such force it shattered against the ceiling. Brown goo rained down onto the McQueen family and guests, all those struck screamed both in surprise and disgust.

The sound of heavy boots rushing into the kitchen however caused them all to turn towards whoever had caused this sudden disruption to dinner.

Into the room strutted Jacqui McQueen, enraged and fuming.

Jacqueline Bernadette "Jacqui" Mcqueen was the second eldest of Myra's children and by far the one with the shortest temper. Barely a year younger then her older brother Matthew, she we well known for using her fists over words to solve her problems and more then once had taken a swing at someone far larger... or smaller then herself.

With a wave of her hand the silverware responded like it was alive, flying up into the air and coming back down on the still stunned individual lying across its surface.

Russ however only cried out and the next second a thin barrier of red energy faded into existence a few inches over his body.

The knives, forks and even a few plates clashed against the shield, banging off in a shower of clanking metal.

"Jac!" Only Myra shrieking at the top of her lungs managed to break up the brawl, though Jacqui did manage to lift the television into the air and prepare it for a strike.

"Stuffing your gobs!" she shouted back, "and this low life is robbing the place."

"What are you doing here?" Carmel was actually bouncing in her chair.

"Oi," Mercedes shouted as she pulled Russ off the table, trying to whip most of the night's meal from of her boyfriend, "get off him."

"When'd you get out?" John Paul asked.

"What a surprise?" Tina chimed in beside him.

"Someone tell her I'm not a burglar," Russ cursed as he rolled of the table. "Someone!"

"Its our Mercy's new boyfriend," Myra explained, "you nutter."

"Stupid cow," Mercedes muttered loudly.

"What are you doing sitting there?" Jacqui repeated, "I've been stuck on trains all day and no one was at the station to met me."

"Cross my heart. Jac," Myra countered, "I thought it was next week."

"All those miserable months," Jacqui growled, "thought I'd get a better welcome home then this. Bit of a surprise to see me a week early."

"Well yes...oh bollox!" Myra shouted, remembering that while one of her guests was a fellow mutant, the other was not.

Craig remained stock still, more trapped in shock then fright at the entire exchange.

"You...you..." John Paul stammered, turning to his friend sitting rigidly in the chair beside him, "you didn't see that did you?"

Craig was up and bolting for the door before he knew his feet were moving...


	3. Chapter 3 Iron Guard

"Craig, wait!"

He couldn't, his mind was working on instinct and all his body was telling him was run and run as fast as he could.

Dashing for the door Craig was almost home free, the knob was in his sights and his hand was reaching for it but then something stopped him.

It wasn't the realization that he was a mutant running from a houseful of mutants, though that thought had cross his mind. It was because of the creeping feeling travel up his spine.

_Not now, _his thought's were sporadic and desperate, _not in front of everyone._

His hand was almost at the entry when something seized his body.

Craig's skin crawled, like ants running across the flesh of his body. Then as every muscle simultaneously seized up, he stiffened like a board. Gravity was not absent very long before taking hold... and with a resonating crash he hit the floor of the Mcqueen living-room, unable to move and trapped in place.

"Jac!" Myra yelped as she and the rest of the Mcqueen clan quickly rushed over to assert the condition of the unmoving fellow. "What you do to the boy?"

"Nothing," Jacqui seemed as equally puzzled by her results. "I was only tryin' to keep the metal hinges in the door locked so he couldn't get out. Not him. Either he's got a metal plate in his head or..."

Numerous faces crowded over Craig and unmoving as he was, all he could do was stare up at them with no recourse.

One small head however managed to poke through the rest and an shrill voice snickered down at him.

"His a flaming piece of tin!" Michaela shouted, tapping her knuckles against Craig's forehead with a nice loud clang.

Sure enough Craig's entire face was coated and shined in a pristine layer of steel. Even his eyes, the only portion of him able to move and desperately searching back and forth, were two orbs of almost liquid metal.

"Get off him!" John Paul roared.

Craig instantaneously felt his muscles release, like a bad Charley-horse untangling itself. He quickly picked himself up, eyeing the dark haired woman who had done whatever she had to him suspiciously.

"Are you alright?" John Paul wanted to know, to which Craig responded by backing up a bit out of fright.

"Don't," was all Jacqui had to say as she raised her hand outward, enough of a threat to keep Craig in place.

"Fine...fine..." Craig stumbled over his words, faltering to keep Jacqui content. "I'm not moving."

"Certainly I'd say so," Carmel mentioned, "not with that face."

"What?" Craig shouted and Carmel quickly produced a compact mirror to his question.

The moment the boy saw his reflect his metalized jaw dropped.

"You're a mutant!" Michaela clamored to see, almost knocking Mercedes and Tina out of the way.

"No...I mean...no..." the words refused to come out of Craig's mouth, even when he was caught red handed. It was his own self-preservation, not admitting it out loud was the last act of finally acknowledging he was a mutant.

He wanted to stave that off to the last moment.

"Kid if you not a mutant," Mercedes grumbled, cleaning off bits of the destroyed dinner from Russ as she sent daggers at Jacqui, "care to explain why your looking like a flipping Christmas ornament?"

"I...I..." the words were again escaping Craig.

"Craig, love," Myra guided him to the couch and in his numbed state Craig followed, "your a mutant, plain and simple. I've raised seven children and one after the other has either tried to burn down the house, drown us or freeze everything drop of water in greater Hollyoaks just by blinking. I know a mutant when I see one."

Craig just dimly nodded, following but not responding as his mind was still slow to process. Seeing that he wasn't about to add his own input Myra continued.

"When I was a young one I had little Matthew at fourteen," Myra placed a hand on her oldest boy's shoulder, giving him a guilty but poignant look, "from a one time encounter with a boy named Martin. My mother wanted me to give him up but I refused so Nana Mcqueen tossed us out on the street like any 'good' Christian."

"Right weird one she is," Jacqui quipped, gaining a cold stare from her mother.

"I was not bout to leave my boy on the church steps like some trashy mother," Myra countered. "Best decision I ever made. Spent a while traveling, doing odd jobs, getting by as I really 'til I worked for this delightful Dr. Xavier and his business partner, Mr. Lehnsherr."

"Professor X we use to call him," Matthew added. "Nice man, let mom and us live in his family home near Oxford University while he did his research. I was around thirteen when-"

Matthew's voice trailed off, leaving the answer hanging in the air.

"He caught a cold," Michaela was more then happy to supply, "sneezed and the entire second floor became the north pole!"

Matthew instantly shot her a look and started to rise to catch his little sister.

"Cut it out!" Myra bellowed, instantly the two sat back into their seats but still giving black looks to each other. "Well with a mutant under his roof we thought the good Professor was going to toss us but turns out his research and what not was on mutants. Flipping man was a telepath himself, didn't even know. Well in exchange for doing a few minor tests on Matthew and later Jac and Mercy when their powers popped up he tossed the whole incident under the rug."

"Too bad it didn't keep," Mercedes muttered as she and Russ now joined the party.

"Mr. Lehnsherr tried to," Myra had to search for the words before answering, "do the Professor's head in."

"Do his head in?" Jacqui cursed, "that whiny cow took half of the house with him when he left. Literally too! Cost you a right fine job too cause the Professor had to move to the States after."

"Still it help us get by," Myra waved up, "especially when everyone of you lot could turn the world upside and two days from Sunday if you didn't get your way."

"Well all 'cept John Paul," Michaela yelled, an evil smirk on her face when John Paul shot her a look.

"You?" Craig's head almost twisted off his neck when he snapped around to stare at her friends. "What's your power?"

"I'm...well..." John Paul sputtered, his face flashing six shades of red in the process, "sorta..."

"John Paul's a human," Michaela again declared, gaining a slap on the back of her head from Matthew, a shriek of resentment to finish it.

"He's just a late bloomer love," Myra defended her youngest son. "Tina didn't start tossing rocks around with her mind 'til she was nineteen. Now lets clean up this mess. Jacqui get the mop. Craig, you and our John Paul best roll up your sleeves and get a trash bag. We got some cleaning to do."

* * *

The door to his bedroom, sighing in relief as his fingers screamed any further movement. Having to scrubs all that split food out of the tile grout had been hard enough, dealing with his sister's unending bickering at the manual labor they were forced to endure.

On the far side of the room, a gleaming form stood before his mirror, trying to whip a good deal of gravy from his face.

"So the rumors are Chester are true," Craig muttered as he turned to smile at his friend, "your sister's really are bonkers."

John Paul couldn't help but laugh as he snatched a towel off the bed and threw it at Craig, catching the tin can in the face.

"You missed a spot," John Paul giggled.

"Have I now," even if he held the weight and consistency of metal, Craig was much faster then John Paul would have expected and effortlessly tackled his classmate.

Unprepared for quiet literally being rundown by a truck, John Paul found himself pinned to the ground, Craig's hips pinning him down against the floor, hands wrapped around wrists and the one trapped on the bottom struggling to move.

"Know what do you have to say, McQueen?" Craig smugly stated.

"Craig..." John Paul gasped and fought for breath, "crushing... me."

The moment the chrome skinned boy realized his folly he quickly pulled back and off his friend, the sudden release of that much pressure gave John Paul the moment he needed to draw in a ragged breath.

"Oh, gosh John Paul," he was immensely concerned that he could have done some serious damage to his friend, "I'm so sorry, its just never been this bad... or lasted this long. I forgot."

"It's okay, really," John Paul pushed the hovering Craig back as he fought for another deep breath, "I've had worse."

"No you haven't," Craig groaned. "Look at me, I look like a human tin can and I nearly crushed my friend!"

"Craig, its fine," John Paul tried to laugh. "One time Michaela set fire to my jumper just before I had a big exam. Had to go in smelling like smoke. All the teacher's thought I was smoking in the bathroom like Jacqui use to. Besides... you really did miss a spot!"

The joke was enough to break the tense mood, though Craig still seemed a bit concerned about anymore damage he could do.

"I still can't believe I ruined my shirt," Craig moaned as he returned back to the mirror, "I doubt I could hit your sister up for a replacement?"

"Not unless you want to be another magnet on the fridge?" the blond smirked before he grabbed a fresh linen shirt off his dresser. "Here, borrow one of mine."

"Thanks, mate!" Craig nodded, accepting the gift with a grin.

John Paul noticed that his shirt hadn't fared much better and quickly moved off to grab a replacement for himself. As he finished the last button on his school shirt he turned and was almost dumbfounded but what he saw.

Craig slowly removed his shirt, allowing the fabric to smoothly run across his steel-like skin. While he gave the movement even the slightest amount of attention, John Paul however could not tear his eyes away. He traced across the exposed flesh, the muscles underneath the unbreakable skin flexing and tightening as Craig worked the shirt up over his head.

It was enough to make John Paul's cheek's flush and for his breath to hitch in his throat.

For just a brief moment, he swore his heart had stopped beating before it raced up into his throat.

"Thank's again, mate," Craig smiled, pulling the spare shirt John Paul had given him and throwing it over his body. "I really appreciate it."

"Yeah...um... no problem," John Paul stammered a bit.

"So if you don't mind me asking," his schoolmate continued on, oblivious to the show he had just given, "I've meet your mother, all your sisters plus a brother, when's your dad getting in?"

"No clue," John Paul shrugged, "if we even spoke I'd doubt he'd show his face round here. Mum would whoop his behind from here to Scotland if she caught 'em."

"Sorry," Craig realized he had just stumbled into iffy territory, the ever touche subject of an absent father.

"Nah, it's not a problem," the former waved off. "Dad blotted right after Michaela was born, Rickey Bowen was never one to stick around and mum was not about to take anymore of his excuses. Kind of a theme in this household."

Rickey Bowen position as John Paul's father had always worked best when he was absent. As a kid he had few fond memories of his dad, more often it was the fights his parent's had quarreled over that replaced much of his childhood and even at that young age, John Paul knew he father was a bad influence. The family had been much better off the moment he had walked out the door after a final row with his mother and never came back.

John Paul couldn't lie when he said he wasn't sorry to see the man disappear from his life.

"Well your sister's are known for their men trouble!" Craig smirked.

"Yeah, family's got blood from everywhere," John Paul explained. "Matthew is from a bloke mum use to go with in school. Tina's from a one night stand with a Bingo caller. Mercedes and Jacqui both from the same man, though mum won't even utter his name and forbids the both of them from ever trying to contact him. Michaela, Carmel and me all have the same father but other then genes that's all we have in common."

"I understand that," the latter nodded. "My dad left us for a bird half my sister's age. Men, we're pig's aren't we?"

Craig had adored his father, many had use to say he was the spiting image of Johno Dean.

A happy, friendly man, what Johno lacked in maturity, he made up for the respect and devotion of a family that adored him. His parent's were teenage sweethearts of more then twenty-years and had raised four children they were deeply proud of. Unfortunately two-years had passed since his father had left Hollyoaks with his mistress Michelle, a then 19-year old student and the resulting son from the liaison, Craig's half-brother Presley.

It had left Craig immensely hurt and still in pain over the departure. He still resented his father for abandoning his family for some young bird with a nice ass.

"Yeah!" John Paul agreed, causing Craig to break from his musing.

"So what about you family?" Craig inquired. "Everyone seems to have a superpower but you?"

Craig noted the wince, the sudden lowering of John Paul's head but the boy quickly hid his discomfort.

"You're kidding right?" he forced a laugh. "Let's see, where to begin? Mum's human, through and through but the Professor told us she must have a dormant but dominate X-gene. Never had a good eye for men though, probably how she ended up a single mom with seven kids. My brother Matthew is the oldest, he can make ice with his fingers like a glorified snowblower. Jacqui's next, a glorified of magnet, Mercy after that can blast off lightning bolts like your in a summer thunderstorm. Tina is kind of a bookworm but she's a geokenetic... kind of think she can move earth with her mind. Carmel and Michaela are total opposites, especially their powers. One can control water, the others a psycho pyro with a hormonal problem."

"Remind me never to come around that time of the month then," Craig laughed at the quip.

"You'd be filling up hot water bottles before you were even past the front door!" John Paul giggled.

"If I survived!" the laughter between the two exploded as they fought to keep their control.

And then it happened.

Craig's entire body seemed to give a shiver, as if someone was tickling him with a feather or such. His skin seemed to shine under the meager bedroom light for just a moment and then... olive flesh began to break through the armoring. It took only ten seconds but quickly Craig's human form reasserted itself.

"I always feel sick to my stomach when that happens," Craig moaned, turning quickly to inspect his face in the mirror before being satisfied that he was metal free.

"So now that you're back to normal I'm guessing you gotta dash?" his friend nodded.

"Night still young," Craig smiled, "how about a session down at the Dog?"


	4. Chapter 4 Grail Archangel

Craig laid back on the couch, game controller in hand as he launched his digitized character through another series of bounds and complex combination moves.

Behind him his mother continued to argue with his step-father, attempting to cajole the man into a night in the village.

"Oh, Frankie," Jack pandered to his wife as best he could, "every minute spent with you is quality time.

Jack William Osborne was the heart of the Osborne/Dean clan. After Johno's departure and the Dean's eviction from their family home, he had quickly taken over the role of father-figure, giving them a place to live and eventually formed a relationship with Frankie. While never verbally admitted in front of company, Craig genuinely felt Jack had done a far better job not just as a step-father but as a human being also.

"Perhaps it was our anniversary the last time we were out," his mother contemplated out-loud. "No you didn't take me out on our anniversary. You know what Steph," she announced towards her youngest daughter. "We shouldn't let these men take us for granted should we?"

"If I say no," a twinkle in the girl's eyes beamed like her smile, "will you give me money for a pizza?"

Stephanie 'Steph' Dean was the second youngest before Craig. She was definitively vapid and concerned with her looks, devoting god knows how many hours in front of the mirror trying to prefect herself and her floundering 'stage' career.

"But Frankie," Jack droned on, "I'd love to take you out but last time I looked we had a pub to run. And besides you know what tonight is? Its karaoke night."

Francine Bennedictine 'Frankie' Osborne was the relative leader of the household, it's matriarch. While Jack was the owner of the Dog in the Pond, Frankie's well known impulsive and over-zealous nature is what drove the business. Her short-temper, a trait most of her children including Craig had inherited, was one of her primary short-comings. While she was a shop assistant at Evissa, she still held a firm hand over the family operations of the local pub, though tonight that interest seemed to be waning.

"Karaoke night!" Craig and Steph both chimed. "Every night is karaoke night."

"Don't worry bout that," Frankie announced, catching sight of her oldest son managing a stumble from his room. "Jake will hold the fort. Jake!?"

"Yeah?" the man responded half cocked, obviously waking up from another night long bender. Since his accident that had cost Diane Valentine her life he had been punishing his liver more then anyone else in his self quest of personal loathing.

He was free from legal punishment but that didn't mean he couldn't hate himself.

Jake Dean was the eldest of the Dean children, six-years Craig's senior and well known as a very supportive, successful man. That is until recent events had sent him spiraling down a road of self-destruction and personal punishment.

"You'll look after the pub tonight," Frankie questioned, "won't you?"

"You asking me," Jake grimaced, "or are you telling me?"

"Well I'm asking you," Frankie pressed. "When was the last time your mum had off anyways?"

"And its going to be karaoke night," Craig alleged with a leered from behind his game console, "its going to be wild!"

"Well it doesn't look like I have very much choice," Jake conceded, "does it?"

Without even waiting for her confirmation Jake retreated back into the safety of his room, gaining nothing more then a smile from his mother, a dejected look from his step-father and not even an acknowledgement from his siblings.

Catching sight of her husband's look Frankie tried to wave him off.

"It will do him some good," she responded, trying to ease his worries.

Jack was not totally convinced, "I'm not so sure love."

"He's gotta stop feeling so sorry for himself," she brandished her wit at him. "It will help him take his mind off of things."

"Your reckon," Craig called out from the couch. "Cause if you ask me its an accident waiting to happen," catching that his remark may have been a bit out of line he turned over from his game to catch both his parents staring at him.

"No pizza for me then?"

* * *

The music, it was nothing short of horrendous. One patron after another had sung along in a terrible bout of lime light fever that could only be brought on with an ample amount of alochol under their belt.

"Whoever called this happy hour is an idiot," Craig moaned, handing over a set of lager bottles over to Kris Fisher and Olivia Johnson as his sister stood beside him filling a pint. "This is unhappy hour. In fact this is miserable hour. Have you heard that guy over there?"

"Okay" Steph groused as she handed over another drink to Olivia, who quickly smiled and retreated back from the safety of the growing agitation between the siblings. "I get you, Craig."

"Where's Jake?" Craig whipped a rag over his head from the hot atmosphere and stifling work. "He better get down here soon."

"Yeah, good idea," Steph mumbled beside him, "if you want a drunk behind the bar."

"He's drunk!" her brother couldn't even hide his outrage and contempt.

"Well, do you blame him!" Steph muttered over the music. "Would you want to change places with him?"

"Steph my feet are killing me," Craig shouted, "my head is banging and my ears have been abused by that thing over there, so yes, yes I would."

Pulling his mobile from his pocket, Craig hit the closest number and pressed the device to his ear.

"Who are you phoning?" Steph complained as she tossed another batch of glasses from under the counter. "You better not be calling in mum and Jack!"

"Hey, John Paul," Craig spoke loud enough for Steph to hear. "Wanna make a few quid?"

* * *

Craig almost feel over the broad the moment John Paul pressed through the door of the pub, followed a moment later by the towering shadow of his brother Matthew.

"Bout time," Craig griped as his friend approached.

"Regretful," John Paul responded indignant, "we'll just go then."

"Sorry," Craig pardoned himself, "believe me its not a good night. Can you handle the bar for a bit while I run upstairs."

"Takes me back to my days in university," Matthew laughed as he took Craig's bar towel and shooed him onward, running a hand through over his shaved head and turning back to his little brother. "You take the orders, I'll do the drinks. Okay?"

"So pleased to see you," Steph sniped as she flirted a bit with Matthew before she caught a glare from Craig. "What he's cute!"

They took the stairs two at a time, rage building up inside of Craig as he threw open the door at the top and stalked inside.

"Where is he?" he hissed as he searched, Steph gingerly keeping her distance from his temper.

The flat smells of cheap liquor and brunt food. Apparently Jake had attempted to cook a meal, reduced it to cinder before drowning his frustration with a bottle. That of course lead to him passing out from his already inebriated state.

Craig couldn't even hid his repugnance as he stared down at his passed out brother, his sister beside him possessing the exact opposite as concern and pity played on her face.

"Mum is goin kill him!" Steph grumbled.

"Oh, I'm gonna kill him!" Craig hollered. "What do you think your playing at Jake?"

"I'm not playing," Jake drunkenly moaned, trying to force his eyes shut to keep out the intruding light and noise. "Look, why you shouting!"

"Why am I shouting?" his youngest brother scornfully and rashly roared. "Its not like anything anyone says gets through to you! I know its been hard on you, everything that happened-"

"You know nothing," Jake hawked. "My mind's right where its meant to be."

"Jake, your a joke," Craig parried. "You know what, drink yourself to death. You'll be doing all of us a favor!"

With a tantrum of rage still growing under his brow Craig quickly made his exit, leaving a miffed Steph and passed out Jake behind.

* * *

John Paul had just managed to pour an entire round of drinks without spilling a drop, a major achievement if you counted the three glasses smashed, a pint of split beer and one very drunk patron almost taking a swing at him, he had to go through in order to finalize.

Seeing Craig descending the steps from upstairs, he quickly handed over another round of drinks to Sophie Burton and her sister before making a beeline for his friend.

"How's Jake?" he really didn't have to ask that transparent question the instant John Paul saw his face.

The tight lipped glare Craig sent his way was answer enough.

Wheeling back into his work even if his feet protested continued movement, Craig threw a few glasses onto the bar and started filling them, even if no one had asked for anything of the such yet.

Looking up he noticed the crowd was growing, the karaoke music was obviously attracting more of a crowd then he had thought originally. But the minute his eye set on one person in particular his deepening displeasure hit an all time low.

"He's come here for trouble."

"What?" John Paul followed Craig's stare and straightaway caught what he was peering at. "Calvin?"

Craig frowned at the man down the bar from him, an off duty Calvin Valentine in nothing but his street clothes and a pint in his other hand.

Valentine was a new addition to Hollyoaks, arriving with his mother Diana and younger siblings Sonny and Sasha only a short while ago. That quickly soured as his first day on duty he arrived at a hit and run, only to discover very quickly it was his own mother. He was a well meaning man, always trying to do the right thing but Craig knew for a fact he would not be at the pub to do the right thing for Jake's peace of mind.

"Who sits at a bar getting drunk alone?" Craig demanded.

"Leave it," John Paul maintained, "he's not looking for you. Just return the favor."

"Well-" Craig never started his sentence as the sound of the pub door slamming hard enough it echoed over the music thundered in the room.

"_GET BACK!_" Everyone at once turned in time to see what the interruption was, but as a wild mann staggered into the center of the bar, panic was the only thing that could describe the chaos that erupted.

Shock rippled through the pub, people staggering backwards.

The man was non-other then Sam Owen.

His history in Hollyoaks was stepped in malcontent and betrayal. He had arrived under false pretenses and a false name, trying to hide from a crime he did not commit and instead being convicted of a crime he witnessed. After his friend Andy Holt had raped the Burton twins as they were drugged, Andy's own doing, he had been convicted due to Sophie's trickery in getting him to confess to the police. 25-years in jail and the betrayal of the woman he loved had sent Sam into madness and after an attempted suicide in prison, he had slipped away while in the hospital to get his revenge.

"_GET BACK ALL OF YOU!_" Sam bellowed, brandishing a lighter in one hand and an upside down petrol can in the other. "_GET BACK!_"

Desperate and flustered he let the gas spill over the floor, the fumes so strong Craig could smell them above the usual smell of alcohol and piping heat in the air. The karaoke cut out, the music playing but the singers abandoned their positions on stage to cower with the other patrons.

"What is he-" John Paul shouted beside him, watching as mad Sam leered at the customers, one person in particular.

His hands shot out, abandoning the petrol can to clatter to the floor as he made a grab for Mel Burton who cowered back with her twin sister Sophie. Calvin Valentine rushed in on her defense, snatching his former lager pint and smashing it against the backside of Sam's cranium.

The pain, confusion and suspense all culminated as the lighter slipped from Sam's fingers...and struck the line of fuel spilled onto the floor...


	5. Chapter 5 Regal Claws

The heat was like a punch in the face, overpoweringly pressing into him as he gasped for breath in the suffocating air. A second earlier he ha been arguing with John Paul over the real reason Calvin Valentine was out on a night-bender by himself, trying to convince his mate the ulterior motive that everyone in the Valentine family had for the Deans.

Next thing he knew...

_John Paul!_

The realization hit him as he pushed himself up, a layer of ash falling off him like snow as he fought against gravity just to get into sitting position. He tried to but something was on top of him, pressing down on him with a crushing force. His hand tried to knock the obstacle away, break its hold on him...until he heard the groan.

Smoke and heat seemed to part and it was then that Craig finally remembered the explosion, the blossom of fire that rolled over the floor, the roar of air being greedily consumed by the blaze, of people screaming...and John Paul throwing him to the floor when a thunderous boom rocked the pub.

"John Paul," he yelled, trying to get his fallen friend to move, "John Paul you have to get up!"

Coughing and gasping, John Paul rolled over, squinting his eyes in the terrible haze to find Craig.

"We have to get out of here," Craig gasped as he hauled John Paul to his feet. "Come on, we have to go!"

"Where's my brother?" John Paul coughing was quickly brought under control as he turned wildly looking for his older sibling, "Matthew! I'm not leaving without him."

Pushing forward the pub was chaos, people running, screams of anguish and fire crawled everywhere. The smoke only helped to add to the terror and confusion, blocking the scene and adding to the sound.

"Matthew!" John Paul shouted, catching sight of his brother pulling himself out from behind an overturned table. "Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine," he choked out, "but the pub is going up. We have to get everyone out of here."

"Can you..." John Paul left the question open, still fearful of some wayward soul hearing them, "You know!"

"The fire's too hot," Matthew argued, "not enough moisture to freeze the whole place!"

"Then do what you can to get the people out," Craig countered.

Nodding Matthew rushed to the exit, when a bonfire had consumed the heavy wooden door that held the entrance of the building. Reaching the inferno Matthew simply had to place his fingers against the floor and briskly the lapping wildfire ceased, dissolving as an icy breath sent it into remission.

With the havoc and pandemonium keeping everyone so disorganized, no one noticed the act and Matthew quickly used the opportunity to start ushering people through the door, pressing a terrified Kris Fisher and a dazed Zeo Carpenter onward as he lead people outside.

"Steph!" the sudden comprehension dawning on Craig, "she's still upstairs with Jake!"

* * *

The fire hadn't spread to the second floor yet but smoke already started to fill the flat. Steph coughed and fought, trying to get an unconscious Jake to his feet.

"Come on, Jake," she cursed, failing again under her brother's towering bulk.

"Steph!" the sound of Craig's voice was an amazing relief. "Is he okay?!"

"He won't wake up," she gasped as Craig and John Paul knelt beside the pair.

"Get outta here," Craig ordered, "we'll get him up."

Knowing that she couldn't make a difference, Steph made her exit, casting a final worried look back before disappearing down the stairs.

"We could have used her help," John Paul moaned as he wrapped a hand around Jake's shoulder.

"I told her to go because I didn't want her to see this," Craig explained. "Now hit me!"

"What?!" John Paul was aghast.

"Just hit me as hard as you can to make me change!" Craig shouted. "It only works when I'm stressed or scared!"

"And your not right now!" the blonde admonished.

"_JUST DO IT!_"

For a moment his companion hesitated... before finally nodding and drawing back a fist.

The impact caused the latter male to almost lose his balance, only the presence of the couch had given him some support to stay upright.

_"BLIMEY HELL!_" Craig shouted as he tried to push his jaw back into place, "_THAT HURT!_"

"Well you told me to hit you!" John Paul yelled. "And it's working!"

Looking downward at his friend's indiction, Craig saw what he meant.

It was like watching wet paint pouring down a wall but in reverse.

Up from his spine it started, the metal moved like liquid, racing up Craig's face and over his hands in a spiderweb like motion before expanding out to fill the cracks. Barely a breath later Craig stood their, clad in a bodysuit of armor.

Reaching down he pulled his brother up and tossed him over his shoulder's with barely any hesitation.

"Your bloody super strong!" John Paul couldn't help hide his shock.

"Figured if I'm steel," Craig quipped, "might as well be as strong as it. Let's get!"

* * *

Matthew sucked in another ragged breath, the ashy taste filling his mouth and running down like burning timber into his lungs.

_I can't stay here much longer,_ he thought to himself.

But he wasn't about to leave until he knew his brother was safe. That was one thing that defined the Mcqueen family. They were loud, crazy and sometimes a bit too gossip oriented but they'd be damned if they didn't protect their own.

He launched another spread of ice, the cold air managing to quell an inferno spreading across the stage where one scared customer cowered behind the ruined remains of the karaoke machine.

"Move it!" he yelled, the woman was running without an encouragement as adrenaline sent her rushing off.

He turned in time to see a shadow coming out of the haze and for a second his heart leapt that it was his brother.

It instantly dissovled as a haggard Calvin Valentine guided two young patrons through the flames and to the door Matthew was holding sentinel over.

"We have to get out of here," Calvin shouted over the carnage of sounds assaulting their ears, "this place is going to fall apart any moment."

"I'm not leaving without my brother!" Matthew retorted.

"Matthew!" he snapped about, seeing his brother and an armor covered Craig coming down the stairs.

"We've got to go!" the older Mcqueen shouted back, waving them through the ruined remains of the pub. "The fire is getting too hot."

"What is with Craig's face!" the other man commented as he noticed the fiery light glittering over the boy in question's face.

"Calvin, you of all people should know a mutant when you see one!" Matthew shot before the other man simply nodded.

Craig rushed through the collapsing ruins of his home, trying to avoid the small patches of fire that had grown to consume the floor and fallen ceiling tiles and shattered glass.

The door was a not too distant goal but as he was crossing the final distance something caught his eye.

A head of hair, brown and curly. It took a bit for his eyes to focus through the maelstrom of smoke and light before he realized it was a woman, collapsed on the floor beneath the remains of a splintered chair.

"Take him," he called out.

"What?" John Paul said, caught off guard by the remark.

He couldn't argue when Craig slipped his brother off his shoulders and into John Paul's arms, the blonde boy stumbling under the weight of the much larger man.

"There's someone left!" he yelled, the roar of the burning making his voice an obscured shadow of its former-self.

Craig dove back into the mayhem, crunching over the debris towards the collapsed women.

It was Olivia Johnson.

She had been with a gaggle of friends and though she had been surrounded by a group of people that were among the first to leave she must have been forgotten in the confusion.

Her curly, black hair was matted in smut, a piece of lumber had detached from the ceiling and pinned her stomach.

Gripping his fingers under the wreckage, Craig pushed up, regretting not spending more time on the pitch or in the gym working out. Though he was super-strong thanks to his mutation it didn't mean his muscles didn't protest this extreme work.

With a clear clatter the planking feel away, the release of so much weight allowed Olivia to gain a gasping breath from the removal of the constriction on her chest.

Pushing his arms underneath of her and pulling up, Craig hoisted the unconscious girl into his hands.

Rolling on the balls of his feet he made ready for his exit...until the shattering of a series of glasses behind him caused Craig to glimpse back towards the bar.

The fire had hit the liquor and if Craig remembered what Jack had told him that was the worse case scenario in a fire. It didn't take a genius to remember that alcohol of a certain malt or vintage could be flammable. An entire wall, well he didn't need to do the math.

He had maybe a one or two...

_Boom!_

Fire and rubbish flew into the air, a wave of sparkling and deadly glass flying in a wave of death while Craig cursed his failing math skills for not thinking he had more time.

Craig had a split second, just enough time to wrap his full body around Olivia and grit his teeth.

The shock-wave hit and it was nothing but pain...

* * *

"He's taking too long," John Paul trembled. "Something's wrong!"

"Just let him do his thing," Matthew tried to calm him, "he'll be out in a second."

"The fire engines are just around the corner," Calvin commented as the sirens rose in the distance.

But the longer time trickled away, the fire grew and hope that Craig would exit began to dwindle.

John Paul couldn't do it, waiting here any longer. It was like his stomach was rolling, knowing his mate was still trapped inside and there was nothing he could do from where he was.

"Tell mum, I'm sorry!" John Paul's cryptic remark only gained a perplexed look from his brother.

"What?" Matthew asked but never got a response, his brother was already vaulting forward...towards the burning building.

* * *

"Craig!?" John Paul shouted into the flames, trying to weave his way through the maze of confusing twist, turns and burning dead ends to find his friend. "Craig, where are you?!"

For a long while he stumbled, tripping over his own feet as the smoke made his eyes tear up and his throat burn.

_Why did I do this_, he thought to himself, _but God I hope I find him._

"John Paul," the voice was strained and struggle voice called out, "John Paul!"

It took a wild spiral in a few directions before he finally sighted his friend.

Disregarding everything in his path, from debris to fire, he sprung forward.

"Are you okay!" the savior asked, arriving at his victim.

Craig was on his back, blinking harshly against the the smoke. He had lost his armor, most likely in confusion he had lost his concentration. Beside him an unmoving Olivia lay, limp like a doll discarded onto the floor.

"My leg," Craig groaned, "I can't move it!"

His foot had been trapped under one of the supporting collar beam, creating a prefect cage around it as the tapering ends had punctured through the floor and encasing Craig's foot in a cage.

Wrapping his fingers around it John Paul pulled with all his might but his burliness was not enough, his muscles screamed in protest over the entire action itself. And the collar beam refused to budge.

The smoke was becoming too much, even now a foot from the floor it was a choking mess that dazed and confused him.

"Just go!" Craig bellowed, "Get Olivia and get out of here!"

"I'm not-"

John Paul's retort was cut short when another run of liquor bottles exploded a few meters away, causing his eardrums to pinch in anguish.

Turning back to his mate he noticed Craig's eyes were no longer open...he was finally starting to be overcome by the smoke inhalation.

"No, no, no!" John Paul just kept repeating it, trying to shake his friend awake, his mind trapped in the throes of panic.

He had to find a way out, some route that would leave to their salvation. He couldn't carry Craig and Olivia, even if he had enough adrenaline to keep a bull rhino running for a week he didn't have the strength.

He had to pick, choice someone to live, someone to die. He could go with Craig, his mate, his first friend. But if he did the boy would probably never forgive him. Olivia was stranger, yet she had no choice in the matter.

He couldn't let someone....

He choose Craig.

But as he reached for his friend a terrifying pain shot through his brain. A hot poker of agony cracked and John Paul cried out, clutching his forehead and wondering profusely if something had just struck him.

His nose was bleeding, his hands were covered in it the moment he had brought them to his head and the pain was only getting worse.

_Too much smoke_, he asserted to himself,_ I've been breathing it this whole time and now its getting to me._

Another spring of pain raced across his nerves and John Paul jumped up with a scream, clutching his nose as it started to bleed worse.

Then it was gone, like everything had been lifted off him and he felt lighter then he ever had before.

But the sound...the sound was so quiet now.

It was a resounding whoosh, no other words could really describe. Like someone blowing on a birthday candle the fire across the entire pub trembled, as if some unseen gust was blustering over it.

Then with a pop it was gone, along with the fire, the smoke, everything. All that lingered in the air was a slight breezed and one very sharping gasping for breath before finally John Paul's eyes rolled back into his head and his knees buckled, hitting the floor with a smack.

* * *

One moment the Dog in the Pond pub was a howling inferno that was so bright you couldn't directly look at it, the next it was just cooked ruin. At no time did Matthew notice when the fire had stopped but it had been quicker then he could blink.

It obviously wasn't normal.

"Matthew!"

"Michaela!" Matthew didn't show it often but for once he was relieved to see his youngest sister. "Thank god, you got here in time!"

Michaela, the girl may have been a little pyromaniac most of the time but for once he was happy to see her.

But as she trudging up with a concerned Carmel in tow, the girl's face was a painted mask of ignorance.

"What are you going on about?" she said the moment she was close enough. "We saw the smoke, knew you and John Paul were here and came running."

"You mean you haven't..." a shake from Michaela answered the rest.

"Matthew," Carmel squealed next to her, "Where's our John Paul?!"

"He's still..." he responded, the words catching in his throat as he turn back to stare at the smoking pub, "He's still inside."

The stricken look spread over the collective Mcqueen's faces.

"We have to go in!" Michaela shouted, "we have to-"

"No," Matthew cut her off, "the firemen are here, let them do their work. There's nothing we can do now..."


	6. Chapter 6 Malevolent Spectres

The air was filled of the smell of antiseptic and sterile plastic, lacking nothing but a stale aroma over everything. His mouth tasted like sandpaper and every muscle in his body ached, not being helped by lumpy mattress he was a top of.

Slowly Craig opened his eyes and quickly slammed them shut as the florescent light overhead pierced through his skull. After a few seconds of building up a tolerance he managed it again and slowly his throbbing vision began to clear as his world came into focus.

"Mum," a woman's voice shouted a bit too loud, "he's waking up!"

"Steph?" he groaned, his dry throat sending a terrible pain through his chest.

"She's in the other room, love," another voice cooed, a hand rising to stroke his head. "Your brother took a right knock to the head."

His sight cleared, the tiny stars that danced across his eyes stared to fade and quickly Craig found himself looking up into the faces of Myra and Carmel Mcqueen.

"What are you..." his voice trailed off as the last few moments of memory came flooding back before he ended up here. "Where's John Paul?!"

"Right here," the women parted and Craig looked to the bed to the right of him, where John Paul sat equally surrounded by members of the Mcqueen household.

Tina sat on the bed, a bowl and spoon in her hand, Mercedes and Russ in the corner argued over something and Michaela poked at an increasingly annoyed Jacqui.

"You gave us a right scare," Myra scolded him like any mother would.

"Mum," John Paul interjected in himself into the conversation, "he saved Olivia's life."

Huffing, Myra accepted the bait and backed off, though still hovering a good distance away like any mother would.

"You okay, mate?" John Paul asked.

"Yeah," Craig nodded.

It was a lie.

His head was aching, his chest hurt and just blinking sent a sting of pain into his brain. But he hated hospitals and didn't intend to stay here.

"Mr. Mcqueen?" all eyes quickly turned to the new arrival standing in the room's doorway, "I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm Dr. Cartwright, the specialist assigned to your case. I was just hoping to discuss your condition with you. If you like, I can come back later."

"No, not a bit," Carmel was immediately up, her eyes gleaming at the prospect of the man's arrival.

Myra McQueen however interrupted the actions of her daughter and quickly interjected herself. One's health always took precedence over one's libido.

"Matthew, darling," she quickly grinned at the young man, "why don't you go. You know I never understand any of that dribble.

The McQueen girls all deflated a bit and their oldest sibling, knowing he had probably a few moments before this distraction passed and the bickering restarted, quickly ushered the man out into the hallway.

* * *

The moment the door clicked shut, Matthew turned on the shorter man.

"Give it to me straight," he stared the man down, "how bad is it."

"Your brother is going to be fine," the man nodded, a bit of a smirk in his eyes. "He has suffered only minor smoke inhalation and his carboxyhemoglobin levels are already starting to fall.

"Explain that again to someone," Matthew sighed, running a hand through his non-existant hair, "who only had a single course of anatomy at university."

"When he was in the fire," the doctor explained, "he absorbed a large amount of carbon monoxide through his lungs into his blood. The gas bonds to the blood cells, keeping them from absorbing any oxygen. It only takes a short while before the patient is back on his feet. He won't need the oxygen mask any longer but we want to keep him at least another night until his tests come back normal."

"That's goodness," he breathed a sigh of relief.

"However while we were running a few blood tests," Cartwright continued, "several of the tests came back most perplexing."

"What do you mean?" concern immediately began to rise in Matthew's voice as any number of fatal and terrible aliments that could threaten his brother's life, began to rise in his psyche.

"At first we figured it was just a abnormal white cell count," the clinician disclosed, "but then we ran a EEG and found that his brain activity takes a noticeable spike when under stress, far off the scale of anything humanly possible. Has he been experiencing any headaches recently?"

"Yes," the man granted, "very often since he started school."

"I would like to run some more tests just to-"

"No," Matthew intervened, cutting the other man off, "no more tests. If he's okay then we just want to take him home."

"Sir," a worried tone rose in Dr. Cartwright's voice, "I don't mean to be too forward but I have seen this kind of pattern before. It tends to appear in those with an active X-gene. If your brother has the mutation, steps must be taken for the safety of your family's sake. A government team can be here in-"

"What ever happened to protecting the privacy of your patients," Matthew commented darkly.

"And as you know a patient's desire," Cartwright managed a commanding quality to his voice, "to cause harm to themselves or _another_ trumps Doctor-Patient confidentiality."

"Are you implying my brother is a danger," the moment the Mcqueen's eyes flared with his family's trademark glare, Cartwright found that command quality starting to dissolve.

"Mutants are well known for their penchant for destruction," the physician shrugged, his eyes suddenly becoming interested in the hospital floor tiles then . "I can let that slide but if the Mutant Registration Act does pass I will be required by law to disclose all my records on any mutant patients I have ever treated."

"Then if you value your life," Matthew black voice managed to finally force Dr. Cartwright to give him a direct, though concerned look, "I would think twice."

"Is that a threat, sir?" Cartwright tried to seem firm and resolute but his voice faltered.

"You better believe it," the fellow growled. "The X-gene is hereditary and mutants are known for their penchant for destruction. Anything happens to my little brother and a threat will be the least of your worries."

* * *

When his bags hit the floor, Craig grimaced at the cloud of dust that puffed up from the impact. Behind him Steph groaned at their accommodations, bedrooms smaller then his closet back at the Dog, a living room that looked like no one had lived in it since the last World War and conditions that would make a starving homeless person think twice before entering.

By far this B&B was not a place he wanted to be.

"Well it looks like this is home for the next couple of weeks," Frankie commented as she breezed past, depositing her handbag on the nearest table which wobbled dangerously from the weight.

"Remind me to check unsatisfactory on the comments card before we leave," Craig mumbled just loud enough that his mother shot him a glare.

"Do try to make the best of it," Frankie huffed, " we'll be back at the Dog before you know it."

"That's rich," Craig hissed, flopping down on the couch.

Instantly he regretted it as the cushion almost imploded under his weight and he bounced right back up from falling into the piece of furniture.

"This is unreal," he groaned.

"Oh, I can't believe this," Steph concurred. "No phone, the landlady's a buzzard and all my clothes smell like smoke."

"Be glad you even have any clothes left to smell," Jack remarked as he came through the door, his son and Craig's step-brother Darren not far behind with another load of luggage in his arms. "Most people loss a lot more in fires, like their lives."

"Right," Frankie declared, removing several of the bag's Jack had delivered as her husband depart to retrieve more. "Darren and Jake will have the first bedroom, Steph in the next, Jack and me will take the last."

Craig's ears perked up at his apparent lack of a room assignment.

"What bout me, mum?" he solicited.

"You'll just have to make do on the couch," the disgruntled look he sent her was enough to let Frankie know Craig was not pleased. "I'm sorry dear, but it's all we can afford and I doubt you'd prefer the floor in the boy's room."

"Fine," he spat, "whatever."

"Craig," his mother forced, "you know your brother has been going through a hard time. He needs the extra space to recuperate."

"Recuperate!" Craig roared. "He passed out drunk during a fire while I was trapped in a flipping burning building!"

"Don't-"

"_NO!_" he cut Frankie off before she could launch a protest. "You're always defending him, overlooking his problems. He killed someone, mum! You can't get over that. But you're too blind to see that! He messed up!"

The sound of bags hitting the floor meant that Craig's outburst had gotten an audience he hadn't intended.

"I'm going outside," no one protested his departure, even as he shot passed his brother who was still staring at the suitcases he had dropped on the floor.

He moved in strides, trying to put as much distance between himself and this rundown place as possible. But he barely made it as far as the front lawn before he found himself tucked below a towering tree.

His breaths came in heaves, trying to reorient itself against the rage he was feeling.

Fist clenched, eyes about to water and the tightening urge to punch something, Craig almost didn't notice Calvin until he was standing over him.

"You alright?" the new arrival questioned, dressed in almost the same street clothes as he had been the night of the fire.

"What are you doing here?" Craig made no attempt to hide the rage welling up in his voice.

"Listen," the man shrugged, "I just thought I stop around, see how your family is doing?"

"What? Want to see the Deans at their worse?" the boy hissed. "Well get your kicks and leave."

For a long while Calvin's eyes blazed with the white hot intensity Craig saw in Sonny's everyday at school. But unlike his younger brother, that fire died very quickly as the young man reigned his emotions in.

"I know that wasn't you driving the car," Calvin admitted. "I know it wasn't you who abandoned my mother to die in the streets. I know it wasn't you in that court room on trial. What I do know is that you braved the fire to get your brother out and then went back to save more. As a police officer I see people at their worse everyday, but rarely do I see self-sacrifice."

Craig just stared at him, wondering what this man was really getting at. When Calvin didn't break eye contact the dark haired boy sighed.

"It was the right thing to do," he conceded, glancing down at the lawn underneath of him. "If I hadn't done it, would you have save him? The man that took your mother from you."

"I don't know," Calvin confessed after a pause. "I'd like to think I would but I can't honestly tell you."

"Well then what could possibly bring you around here?" Craig asked. "Coming to give me a good civi metal?"

"Sonny and you don't get along," Craig's eyes fell back to the grass at Calvin's comment, "but that doesn't mean every Valentine hates you... and it doesn't mean this Valentine doesn't respect you."

He extend at hand forward and tentative Craig took it, though all the while he was expecting the worse. Calvin did had a good track record but established history had stated the Deans and Valentines would never be friends.

"Thanks," he accepted, withdrawing his hand back after a bit.

"No problem," the taller man declared with a grin. "But I'm here for another reason. You should be more careful in the future. As far as anyone knows in Hollyoaks there are no mutants. Don't want you exposing us."

"Us?" Craig's eyes went wide at the implication. "You mean..."

"Ever wonder why I joined the police," Valentine grinned as he tapped his head. "I can tell when someone's lying. Not just a knack for body language, but a real working lie detector behind these eyes. I knew when your brother said my mother's accident was really a accident, he meant it. I knew when Sonny said he'd leave you alone he was lying. I know right now when you say it was the right thing to do, you are being truthful."

"I just didn't think," Craig murmured. "Is Sonny one of us then?"

"Don't know," Calvin truthfully divulged. "Mum was an empath, I'm a lie detector, who knows where the apple will fall with him but nothing yet... so you don't have to worry."

Craig breathed a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding. Sonny was already a nightmare, give him superpowers and who could guess where that would end up.

"You're hanging out with the McQueens, aren't you?" Calvin questioned, to which Craig nodded. "Probably not one of the best influences but if you want to learn about the mutant community in this village, then their the top dogs to show you. Matthew is an expert to go to if you have a problem with your powers."

"The mutant community?" Craig asked.

"One thing you should know Craig," Calvin smirked, "no one in this place is exactly as they appear."

* * *

"You want to what?!" John Paul shouted.

The doctors had been throughly convinced that his smoke inhalation wasn't life threatening and after an even longer bout of time doing the same to his mother, John Paul had finally managed to find himself sitting back in his own bed.

But that didn't mean he wasn't anymore poke, prodded and annoyed by his own personal medical staff in the form of mum, Carmel and Tina.

"Its just a sponge bath," Carmel smiled, "we don't want you slipping in the shower in your condition."

"Out!" her brother cried in response, shoving his sister from his room.

"But John Paul, we have to-"

Her counter-argument was cut off when John Paul slammed his door in her face.

He fumed, the indignant rage and embarrassment of such a suggestion sending him into a tiste.

So when his mobil rang his greeting came out a lot harsher then he intended.

"_WHAT!_"

"Someone doesn't sound in a right mood," Craig's voice crackled over the speaker.

"Sorry," John Paul apologized, "the family is just being a little too helpful, alright."

"Yeah I know that," Craig agreed. "Listen I'm sick of being stuck in this B&B. Was thinking of hitting the II Gnosh You up?"

"Brilliant," John Paul smiled, "I'll be there in a few."

* * *

Il Gnosh was one of the major hangouts for the youth of Hollyoaks. It was a perennial haunt for its metropolitan look and affordable meals, especially anyone with an ample imbalance of hormones who seemed to flocked to its business.

Craig slipped inside, immediately getting a wave from John Paul at the far end of the restaurant.

"Hey," he greeted his friend as he approached the table. "Should I ask if you've had your bath yet?"

The glare John Paul shot him was enough of a hello for him.

Taking his seat Craig quickly launched into the condition of the Dog and his home, detailing how the fire had done its damage and what the effects would be.

"Insurance guy told us that they'd cover almost everything," Craig explained. "Everything should be fixed in about a few week's time."

"That's great," John Paul grinned, "so the Dog in the Pond will be back on the map soon enough."

"Yeah they said it could have been worse," Craig accepted, trying not to think about the fact that both Mel and Sophie Burton along with Joe Spencer had lost their lives in the disaster, not counting Sam Owen who had perished in his own act of violence.

It had been an actions of by a deranged man who was deeply disturbed, it didn't mean the loss of four lives was any easier to accept.

"How's Olivia doing?" John Paul asked, breaking Craig's personal mourning.

"Doing alright," he shrugged, "still hasn't woken up but Kris and Jess haven't left her side since they pulled her in. We were almost goners, they never did find out what stopped the fire, did they?"

"No," John Paul answered, "I passed out before anything happened but Matthew and Michaela both say they didn't do anything. Just said it sorted itself and was gone."

"You don't think another..." Craig didn't need to finish before John Paul was nodding.

"Mum and Matthew thinks so," the blond expounded on, "but there are only about fifteen other..." John Paul didn't want to say those words in public around so many humans, "...known in Hollyoaks, not counting my family and Russ. None of them could put a fire out just like that. Michaela could, Matthew with enough concentration, even Carmel if there were enough clouds around but everyone would see it raining. But they all say they didn't do a thing."

"Could it be someone new," Craig suggested, "I mean people like us don't really advertise, do we?"

"Possible," John Paul admitted.

For a long while Craig was silent, trying to compile his last few memories before he passed out, trying to pull something from the chasm of his psyche to hopeful remember something.

"I know I didn't do anything, Olivia was unconscious," Craig stated, "so the only other person in the Dog at the time was...you."

"But I'm human," John Paul dismissed.

"Who has six siblings who have superpowers," Craig added in a whisper, "maybe just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not there."

"No," John Paul shook his head, "I couldn't...could I?"

"There isn't anyway to-"

"Hiya boys," both of them went quiet the moment Sonny appeared at their table, Craig sinking a little bit lower into his chair, John Paul straightening in his jacket.

"Sonny," John Paul greeted him a little unenthusiastic. Suddenly realization dawned on the blond's face. "I just realized where I know your face from."

"What?" Sonny looked down at John Paul.

"Joey's," John Paul explained. "We had you in a competition season before last. I played right behind you."

"Oh yeah," Sonny laughed, remembering the entire event. "I ripped you to shreds."

"I ripped you to shreds," John Paul countered.

"I scored two and I made two," Sonny boasted. "Anyway it's the last they pick that gets left to play back."

"I was first!" John Paul finally gave into Sonny's goading with a shout.

"Yeah," Sonny admitted. "I'm joking."

"Anyway me and Craig were going for a couple kickrounds at the rec-center," John Paul declared, Craig shooting him hot daggers from across the table. "If you fancy coming round later?"

"Ah, I'd loved to but," Sonny shrugged, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "You see I'm DJing tonight."

"Where?" the blonde haired boy couldn't help to hide his surprise.

"The Loft," Sonny announced triumphantly. "They're holding a competition, of course I'm going to win."

"Aren't you too young?" John Paul asked.

"Spoke to that fit blonde who works there," Sonny responded, "she says anyone's welcomed."

"Are you any good?" the former inquired.

"I've had decks for years," Sonny reciprocated. "You?"

"Yeah," John Paul modestly said, though a smirk played on his face, "not that bad."

"Tell you what," Sonny clapped his hands together, "you should come down tonight. See me in action. Get a DJing master's class tonight."

"Yeah," the kid chuckled, "whatever."

"Fine," Sonny shrugged before frowning in Craig's direction, "drop the deadweight and will see you there."

Turning on his heels Sonny marched off, casting Craig a terrible beaming smile that made his stomach feel like it had just turned to lead and dropped.

"Why did you do that!" Craig's voice dropped to a hiss.

"Sonny hates you because he doesn't know you," John Paul laid out logically, "maybe if we spend sometime together he'll back off and realize he doesn't hate you as much as he wants to."

"Don't bother," Craig mumbled. "His brother Calvin came around this morning."

"How'd that go?" John Paul inquired.

"Well enough," the other boy admitted. "Did you know he was a mut-... one of us?"

"Matthew and him have hung out a few times," John Paul shrugged. "Personally I didn't know but its not a shock."

"The man's a walking lie detector," Craig explained. "I'd hate to be in Sonny's shoes. Imagine how much trouble he must get in trying to sneak off to see his cow."

"Well maybe that can be your in to get on Sonny's good side," John Paul noticed. "Use his brother to get a good word in."

"I doubt he would," Craig mumbled. "Even then, I doubt Sonny would listen."

* * *

After several days of bright sunlight, warm summer breezes and pristine blue skies, nature itself had finally lost the battle and begun to dissolve into the depths of fall.

Clouds were the first sign of this change, leaving the ground a broken array of light and shadow.

Craig laid back on the bench, trying not to think about the chilling breeze rolling up his arms. It felt nice but without any sunlight to warm him and still wearing a light T-shirt with a sweater vest overtop of it, he was quickly starting to get a chill.

Peaking out from the edge of a whale shaped grouping of cumulous clouds the sun was a welcomed intruder into his waiting...until a new shadow obscured it.

"Oi, Dean. Don't you have a home to go to?" Sonny announced, going for the low blow right away. With drawing a few coins from his pocket he tossed them at the other boy. "Here. Some change for your bus fare. One way!"

"It's a shame," Craig stared angrily back, "I like it here."

"Aw," Sonny radiated, "can't you take a hint?"

"Look," Craig tried to counter, "why don't you get lost, alright."

"I said," Sonny announced, "I wanted you gone."

"And who made you sheriff?" Craig asked.

He wanted to go unnoticed, to get the grades he needed and not put his head too far out while he was stuck here. But already his home had burned down, he had become a mutant and now this single individual enjoyed to torture him on an hourly basis. He was starting to get fed up.

"See I've been nice to you so far," Sonny voice dropped to a wheeze, "but I'm about to get nasty. I want you and your lot gone from here and until it happens, I'm going to make your life hell."

His challenger quickly regained his composure the minute he saw John Paul approaching, pack on his shoulder. Retreating back and into the Loft, Sonny made his exit, leaving a fuming Craig behind as his mess.

"You alright?" John Paul asked as he approached before turning to watch Sonny disappear into the club. "What he want?"

"Nothing," Craig answered, changing the subject and turning his attention to the package John Paul had. "What do you got?"

"Eh, you'll find out," his mate shrugged before turning back to stare at the entrance to the Loft. "Have you seen many go in?

"A few," Craig replied. "Listen I...ah...I got that essay I gotta do and have to hand in next morning...What?"

He was cut off as John Paul gave him a knowing smirk.

"You're bailing out on me cause of that," he said, referring to Craig's and Sonny's former interaction.

"No," Craig lied and very badly.

"Whatever," John Paul grimaced.

For some reason that look of disapproval sent a pang of guilt through Craig. Why was it that this boy's opinion meant so much to Craig? They had known each other such a short time and now he hung on John Paul's every whim, wanting to please him like a good little pet.

And no matter how much he hated it, he liked it.

The attention, the concern, the actual fact John Paul listened to him, responded and then wanted to know more. He had never had a mate before who was like that.

"What have you got in there?" Craig asked, nodding towards the bag over John Paul's shoulder.

"Records," the former dismissed him with a shrug.

"Seriously going through with this?" Craig stated, a bit of shock rising in his voice.

"Got as good a chance as any," John Paul paid no heed to Craig's inquiry.

"Can you mix?" Craig questioned again.

"Coming?" the smile sprung on John Paul's lips, hoping Craig would take the bait. "You'll find out."

Rising quickly, Craig was thrown back as John Paul tossed his bag into his unprepared arms.

"Might think I'm the real deal," he joked as Craig sent him a sour look, "if I get blokes to carry my bag for me."

"Shut up," Craig muttered as they disappeared inside.

* * *

"Where's your brother, love?" Myra asked as she rummaged about in the fridge, quickly dissatisfied with the lack of anything she liked.

"Went out," Matthew responded behind her, sitting at the counter, downing another can of beer.

"Well, that is oh so specific," his mother quipped as she sat down across from him.

"Not telling you," he responded with a tip of his drink at her, "'cause Carmel will come after him with a sponge."

"She tried on that sponge bath bit with him?" Myra sighed. "Told her not to go that route. But still he was trapped and helpless in a burning building less then a few days ago, he should be at home resting."

"Mum, you can't keep smothering him," he countered, "I know where he is, he is okay."

"I know, I know," Myra waved off. "I just worry about you lot, him more then the rest."

"Maybe you don't need to worry about him as much anymore," Matthew muttered as he downed a long swig of his bitter drink.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she gave him a look.

"Mum you saw the news, talked to the Deans, everyone else that was there," Matthew expounded on. "Everyone says the fire just stopped. No water, no firemen, nothing touched it and in a puff it was gone."

"There are plenty other mutants in Hollyoaks that could have done something," his mother spelled out. "We should be thanking them for saving our John Paul."

"There are three mutants in all of Hollyoaks I know of, that could stop a fire without any visible actions," Matthew reasoned. "Russ was with Mercedes, Rhys Ashworth was in Chester and Jeremy Peterson was sleeping off another all night bender. And we already know Michaela was on her way to the fire, so that eliminates every mutant except John Paul."

"Your brother is human," Myra insisted, a bit unsure of her own argument anymore.

Matthew had a tendency to be very logical and observant, it sometimes startled Myra how unlike the other McQueens he could be. Loud and boisterous their family was, where Matthew was more reserved and calculating in his actions.

"No, he's not mum," he asserted. "You've been calling him a late bloomer since Michaela started spitting fire like Margaret Thatcher. Now that he may have bloomed you won't accept it."

"Maybe your right," Myra sighed, "but let's wait for now. He's been through so much, we don't want to overburden him. Alright?"

* * *

The Loft was hot, dark and loud, everything Craig loved the most. It made staying unnoticed all the easier.

Rolling past the bouncer they were almost home free to disappear into the crowds when another body intercepted the pair.

"I didn't tell you to come along to bring him," Sonny's face turned several shades of red as he tried to keep his rising voice under control.

"Yeah and I didn't come to see you," John Paul countered, earning a grin from Craig.

The glare of rage that Sonny shot him was enough of a hint he'd better retreat and not press his luck any further.

"I'll bring the drinks," Craig announced and quickly made his exit.

"Ready to wipe the floor with me," John Paul posed, trying to change the topic of conversation as Sonny followed Craig's departure with a seething look of fury.

"Might be," Sonny took the plug and his ego quickly overshadowed the hurt kid under it. His eyes traveled downward to the pack on John Paul's shoulder. "There's not record in that bag?"

"Got a couple new ones," John Paul shrugged.

"Yeah but you can't be a DJ," Sonny suddenly sputtered, "you're not..."

"Not what?" John Paul questioned, wanting to know what Sonny truly meant.

"So what kind of stuff are you into?" it was Sonny's turn to change the subject, and though John Paul wanted to know what his rival could was getting at originally, he let it slide.

"All sorts," John Paul glossed over.

Craig soon returned with the first round and any further discussion was cut off as the competition began.

"Ok everyone," Clare Devine declared over the microphone, her voice gaining all attention in her direction, "we've got some new DJ talent ready to show us what they do. Our first contestant is Zach Ramsey."

The crowd cheered and clapped as a boy in a blue shirt briskly took position behind the DJ station and began to churn out his music. At first it was a slow pleasing sound, gaining more then a few jeers and calls from the audience. But as it started to accelerate Zach Ramsey swiftly proved his expert skills were exceedingly limited.

Scratching, grating sounds accompanied the blasting stereo, sent a collective wince through the Loft's patrons.

"Oh," Sonny laughed at the first competitor's misfortunate, "he's losing it."

Sonny's comment may have elicited the attention of God himself as a second later Zach rolled on the record too roughly and a terrible scream of stressed beats made more then a few people in the room clutch their ears in disgust.

"No, I take it back," Sonny giggled, "he's lost it."

"Jesus Christ," John Paul added beside him, "this bitty got no where to go."

"Uck," Craig agreed, "its hurting my ears."

By now Zach should have cut his losses as most of the clubs cliental were booing the kid off stage.

"Right, give it up for Zach, everyone," Clare interrupted, a plastered smile trying to be as nice as possible to a horrible DJ.

"Oh, how bout another go?" Zach called out, his response was an immediate 'NO' from the crowd.

"Right," Clare ushered him off the stage as she continued onward, "next up we've got Sonny Valentine."

"Good luck," John Paul yelled.

"Don't need luck," Sonny called back, "when you've got mad skills like me."

Sonny slipped behind the DJ booth with a wide grin of his face, showing off his record and strutting his stuff as he set to work.

The music was nothing short of a professional beat, sound rolling out in a fluid like motion that got the congregation of patrons moving and dancing.

As they watched Sonny out do his former, Nancy Hayton slide in beside John Paul and Craig.

"This is brilliant," she remarked as she eyed the stage. "Have they all been this good?"

"Guy's got some mad skills," Craig boasted in an imitated voice.

"Yeah he's amazing," Zach, the first round washout, added from behind them.

"I don't believe we've met," the new arrival said, noticing the boy standing beside Craig. Extending her hand she greeted him with a formal,"Nancy Hayton."

"John Paul Mcqueen," the blond boy accepted. "You go to our school don't you?"

"Yep," she nodded, her eyes slowly traveling downward to the bag of records over his shoulder, "you competing?"

"Hopefully," John Paul confessed.

"You'll do right good," Nancy avowed, "if a nutter like Sonny Valentine can do it, you'll be a thousand times better."

Their conversation came to a quick halt as Clare retook the stage.

"Give it up for Sonny Valentine," the club went wild at her declaration and Sonny was more then willing to take a few bows before finally relinquishing the stage.

"Thank you. I love all of you," he laughed as he took in the praise before returning to the group. "Where you at after that Mcqueen?"

"Hats off, mate," John Paul smugly snickered.

"Now we've got one more hopeful to show us what they can do," Clare's voice echoed through the speakers. "Is there a John Paul Mcqueen in the house?"

Cheering immediately erupted in every corner of the Loft as the hype from the previous performance had left everyone on pins.

Loudest among them was Craig, shouting and whooping for his friend as he approached the stage.

Sliding a record into the player John Paul wasted no time pouring out a series of complex and elaborate tricks that made the crowd wild with envy.

Rolling and dancing, the battalion of regulars ebbed and flowed with the beat as a professional's fingers delivered the beats

"He's right good," Craig chuckled, clapping along with his friend's mixing.

"You can say that again," Nancy agreed beside him.

"Kid's alright," Sonny unwillingly voiced.

The music finally collapsed into silence and Clare was quick to congratulate her final participant.

"Right, can I have a big round of applause for all our DJ's," she twittered. "Now wait for me and the judges to come back with a decision." Turning her attention away from the crowd and towards her partner Tony Hutchinson, "Is there any records to put on?"

"There should be a CD in the machine," he supplied, pointing to the aforementioned device.

Clicking the play button and blast of music rolled out...an all too familiar beat.

* * *

"That was great man," John Paul stated as he ran his fingers through the hot stream of water, "seriously."

"You know what," Sonny responded from the nearby urinal, in no one deterred from holding a conversation as he did his business. "I think its gonna be a giggle working here. So what got you into it?"

"Five sisters. Only peace I get when's me headphones on," he laughed. Suddenly however his voice turned serious. "You lay off Craig?"

After a long, thought out pause, the other boy finally responded.

"Might dude," he admitted.

"I know what happened with your mom must have messed with your head but it was his brother who did it," John Paul knew it was better to stop when you were ahead but like all the Mcqueen's he couldn't help himself. "Even you can see that."

The kid only shrugged off John Paul and knowing that he could do no more he retreated and left Sonny to his own devices.

But as he opened the door to exit back into the Loft a familiar sound reached Sonny's ears.

Stuffing everything back to where it supposed to go and zipping it firmly into place he burst out on the floor, rushing through the crowds to reach the DJ booth where a flabbergasted Clare and fuming Tony stood.

Reaching over the counter top he hit the pause button on the CD-player as he tried to hide his mistake.

"Looking for this," Tony stated, beating him to the point as he ejected the pink and blue CD from the machine.

"Ah, right," Sonny tried to cover his mistake with a hearty roar of laughter. "Must have left some of my records behind!"

"Cheating little toad-lick," Tony hissed.

"What?!" Sonny shot bolt upright when he knew his ruse was over.

"What's this?" Clare asked, still a bit in the dark.

"Listen," Tony boomed as he slipped the CD back into the player. "Sound familiar. He's been cheating. It's a mix CD. Fatboy Slim been having us all up."

"No," Sonny contradicted. "I've just been having a bit of a laugh."

"I don't believe this," Clare growled, staring Sonny down like the rat he was in her eyes.

"What?" Sonny tried to rebut the two but was dismally failing. "Look loads of DJ's use CD's now. It's no big deal."

"Get him out of here," she shouted as the bouncer manhandled Sonny out of the Loft, tossing the mix CD after him as he went, "before I shove that down his throat."

Sonny protested the action but against a man three times his side he could do anything else then verbal assaults lobbed at Clare, primarily around her sexual status.

"As you can see ladies and gentlemen we've found out a cheat," Clare announced to the still bewildered crowd. "So in a photo finish please show your appreciation for our new resident DJ John Paul Mcqueen!"

Clearing erupted as John Paul's friends pounced on him, throwing congratulations and happiness as they ushered him forward to his award.

"Well, love," Clare said as she hugged the still shell-shocked winner, "we're going to love having you work here."

* * *

"I didn't even know you had decks," Craig laughed as the pair stumbled out into the street, the bright neon sign of the Loft giving them the only illumination on the street.

"Yeah, I saved up for a year," John Paul admitted, shouldering his bag as he bounced on the tips of his feet in excitement.

"JP, you're going to be a millionaire, mate," Craig declared, hugging his mate again.

"Ow," John Paul pushed him off, trying to gain a moment of breath. "Listen before I forget I had a word with Sonny. Yeah, told him to lay off of you but..."

Craig's elated mood quickly dissolved. "Why?"

"No big deal," "he gestured, "look I think-"

"I can fight my own battles," Craig scoffed, "alright."

"Fine," John Paul turned a blind eye to his friend's ignorance, "suit yourself."

"I don't want to talk about it," Craig spurred on. "Just wanna get my head down, get the grades I need and get the hell outta here."

"Cool," his friend shrugged, though sounding none the more convinced.

"Let's get some drinks while we wait for Nancy," Craig sighed, trying to dissolve the heated conversation while they waited for Nancy who was stuck on her mobile.

"OI, DEAN!" both Craig and John Paul stiffened at the sound of Sonny's voice booming from across the street.

Valentine furiously approached, clenching his jaw to the point where his teeth would probably shatter under the pressure.

"Didn't I tell you to get out of here!" Sonny ranted, "No one want you here."

"Sonny just calm down," John Paul tried to intercept but Sonny threw his weight around and soundly maneuvered around him and into Craig's face.

"NO!" he shrieked, "I won't let this _murder_ get away like the rest of you do. He needs to pay for his brother's crime.

"If that were true," Craig parried the accusation, "then I'd have been run out of town long ago. Just drop it Sonny."

"Like bloody hell!" Sonny caught Craig as he tried to sidestep him. "You think he's your friend, that anyone here likes you!? They only talk to you cause you're the sorry brother of a maniac!"

"Shove off, Sonny," John Paul shouted.

"This kid should be wetting his pants," Sonny continued, "because I am going to make every second of everyday for him a nightmare!"

"You forget one thing," Craig contested. "I like John Paul more then I fear you. So back off!"

That was just enough, the pressure, the insults, days of torture and pain, just the encouragement for Sonny to make him crack.

His fist was flying before Sonny knew what he was doing and even when he did, he liked it.

Craig on the other hand had expected such a response from Sonny and enough time being the youngest child in his family had taught him to be quick on his feet.

Ducking the punch, he responded with an uppercut, catching Sonny in the chin and sending him sprawling backwards.

"Craig!" John Paul hollered, "What did you do?"

"I...I..." Craig stumbled over his words, more preoccupied at the steel fist he was still clenching, a splash of Sonny's blood across his knuckles. "I didn't mean to."

_I hit him_, Craig barely could comprehend it as the thought dawned in his head, _God I could have killed him._


	7. Chapter 7 Howling Patriarchs

A groan of throbbing ache caught their attention, both boys looking down to see an immobile Sonny clutching a hand to his bloodied nose.

"Come on," John Paul pulled him away, "we have to get out of here!"

The asphalt pounded under their feet, dissolving into cobblestone and grass as they put as much distance behind them as they could. John Paul's lungs burned, Craig's legs hurt and both of them felt the grip of fatigue pulling on them.

Ducking into one of the side alley's along the street, the cool brick pressed into Craig's back as he desperately gasped for the breath that had escaped him. He was so enthralled by the need for air he was slightly taken aback when John Paul hit him hard in the shoulder.

"Oi!" Craig protested, "What was that for?"

"What do you think?" John Paul sputtered. "You should be glad you didn't kill Sonny from your stupidity."

"I'm sorry," Craig regretted his actions and the desperation in his voice was true. "Sonny's been ragging on me and torturing me. I just snapped."

"Maybe you should take a _breather_," John Paul slowly enunciated that last word and Craig quickly caught on.

Glancing downward he noticed his hand was still encased in a shell of sliver skin, the metal glittering in the little glare created by an overhead security light.

Drawing in a long, concentrated breath he willed his 'change' back and reluctantly the armor faded back into his tanned flesh. It actually fought him but when Craig pressed the thought of normality into his psyche the reaction responded and slowly drew back into him.

"You have to watch your powers," John Paul lectured him, before suddenly clutching his forehead with a wince of pain.

"Are you okay?" Craig asked. "Did Sonny hit you?"

"No," his friend waved off, "just been getting these headaches since I got out of the hospital."

"Maybe we should tell you mum?" Craig reasoned.

"No!" John Paul shouted, quickly realizing his volume was a bit too loud, "I'm just tired from today. Listen I am going to head home, I suggest you do the same."

"Yeah," Craig accepted, "I'll see you tomorrow."

A quick so long between the two and they were off, Craig back to the B&B his family had taken up residence in now that the Dog was under reconstruction, John Paul onto Oakdale Road.

The street was dark, the only source of light were the few street lamps that stood as sentries along the road. Their light cast an eery glow over the grounds, shadows arcing and twisting into bewildering shapes that played with the edges of John Paul's already overactive imagination.

Though his mind was more preoccupied by the night itself.

Winning the DJ competition, the fight with Sonny, in a dark alleyway with Craig...Craig only a few inches from his face...his lips...

Shaking the thought from his consciousness he strolled up the walkway of his house, trying to catch sight of any signs of life in the windows that would alert the entire family to his late arrival.

Sliding into the front door, John Paul thanked God that none of his siblings had been up tonight, explaining his late arrival would never have gone over well with a lie detector like Myra Mcqueen as a mother.

He was up the stairs and into his bedroom without a second thought, sealing the door and throwing himself onto his bed. The headache almost immediately rallied itself the moment he was down on his duvet, the dull aching pain rising up to wash over his head.

Groaning he popped a few more aspirin, the bottle had been fully in his possession since his return from the hospital. These ugly headaches had been plaguing him with a vengeance and though he hated it, if they didn't stop soon he was going to have to tell his mother.

Oh how the matriarch of the Mcqueen household was going to have a field day with that one.

_Whatever_, he mentally shrugged,_ but if these headaches don't stop mum going a little wild wouldn't be as bad._

The long day finally caught up with him and not even abandoning his day's clothes he slipped into the sweet darkness of sleep.

Outside the wind howled...

* * *

He punched the pillow again, taking his frustration out on the black, checkered cushion before slamming his head back down upon and it. Huffing in annoyance he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will himself asleep, though after the entire night and the light starting to creep through the window blinds, he had known he had failed.

The couch was lumpy under his back, the odd spring poking him in the backside and the uneven cushions forcing his spine into another piercing curve. So much was already on his mind and given his terrible sleeping arrangements, exhausting had a hold on him but sleep was continuing to allude him.

A few weeks ago his biggest concern was getting through this year and leaving for Trinity to pursue his future. Now he was hiding a secret that could destroy that entire future he had envisioned, he had nearly killed someone who had made it their mission to make his life in Hollyoaks a nightmare and his home, along with nearly everything he held dear, was but a pile of smoking rubble.

Sleep started to consume him, his eye lids just felt so heavy they were already crashing together... and then the bang of a frying pan smashing down on the stove nearly caused him to jump out of his skin.

Groaning he pushed himself up and fixed a death glare at his mother barely ten feet away in the tiny alcove the B&B considered a kitchen as she started the morning routine of cooking breakfast.

Rolling off the couch with what little power he could muster, Craig managed to pull his school clothes from his suitcase against the wall and make his way towards the bathroom.

He could smell the cheap soap, the cheap linoleum tiles and the fresh steam still escaping into the air from his someone who had already used the shower this morning.

It was nearly enjoyable... until his step-brother Darren breezed right by him and slammed the door shut just as Craig was about to cross the threshold.

"DARREN!" the lack of sleep caused him to become nearly irate. "COME ON!"

"What the commotion?"

He spun around, about ready to release an entire triad of insults but the fact it was his mother managed to reign him back in.

"DARREN!" his voice quickly dropped in volume when he remembered the tight quarters and nearly paper thin walls they shared. "Darren took the bathroom before I could get in!"

"Craig," she sighed, giving a well played smile as she clutched a steaming cup of something between her hands, "we are going to be here for a while. The entire family going to have to make sacrifices until we are back home and the bathroom will just have to be one of those things we have to deal with."

"But... but," he shouted as he paced the length of the hall in his frustration. "I have to be in school in only an hour and he's going to spend a fortnight on his hair like he always does!"

"Can't rush perfection!" Darren laughed through the door as the sound of the shower quickly drown her out.

He was almost ready to punch the door, tear down that weak wooden barrier and ring Darren's neck... until he found the familiar tingle rising up the small of his back.

Out in the open, in front of his family, panic started to rising in him.

That only helped to accelerate tingling that was now coursing up his backside. He silently thanked the cold of the B&B last night that had forced him to put on a pair of shorts. Yet that would only buy him only so much time before...

He shot passed his mother, snatching his school uniform he had tossed onto the nearby ottoman the previous day.

"Craig?" Frankie was a bit confused by her son's sudden agitation. "Do you want breakfast?"

"No," he hissed under his breath as he pulled on his pants, nearly tripping over the legs in the process.

"Fine," she accepted without a second thought and headed back towards the kitchen, "Oh, I need you to stop by the insurance office, and pick up you brother's keys to the bar after school."

"I can't," he hissed again as he tried and failed to get the buttons into the right holes of his shirt, somewhere in that mess his tie was also managed to wrap itself into the maelstrom.

"Craig!" she howled, coming back into the living room to figure out was had gotten into her son. "What's the rush?"

"I just can't, alright!" he tried to keep his voice down but already the tingling had grow to right between his shoulder blades. His time was running out.

"Come on," his mother continued to press him, this time guilt starting to ebb into her voice, "your brother had another rough night and needs to get some sleep. He has a job interview tomorrow, you know?"

"Oh then of course, I definitely won't!" he hadn't intended for it to come out so callous and he winced the moment he realized he had just thrown himself into an entirely new mess.

"CRAIG!" Frankie shrieked so loud it made the youngster's blood curdle. "You have no respect for this family! Always acting like the world..."

He was out the door before she had a chance to yell anymore.

* * *

"Alright... alright... hold your horses!" Myra shrieked as she padded through the living room in her slippers and robe to answer the door. The incessant banging had started a second ago and who ever it was seemed to be in a rush. She pulled open the door and found a disheveled, panting young Dean on the other side. "Craig, dear, what can I do for you?"

"Is John Paul in?" the breathless boy asked.

She should have been irked at this rude and abrupt interruption but the pleading look that just seemed to well up in his eyes was enough to make Myra's insides melt.

"Yes, of course," she nodded, moving out of the way to allow him into the flat. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the boy was too quick to answer for her tastes. "Just came over to see 'em."

Lair.

After raising a gaggle of kids, both girls and boys, she was an expert when a child was lying through their teeth.

But she was also an expert when it came to lying because you were scared out of your wits.

"Well go on, then," she ushered him towards the stairs. "He's still in his room getting dressed."

Craig nearly fell bounding up the stairs and after a glance back to make sure Myra hadn't seen his clumsiness, if she had she didn't acknowledge it, he was up the flight, down the hall and opening John Paul's bedroom door.

He should have knocked first.

"Christ!" the McQueen shrieked, pulling on his boxers just two seconds too late for Craig to see everything. "Craig? What's are you doing here?"

"I... um... I..." he stammered, trying to get a coherent stream out of his mouth and nearly failing. The entire incident had left his mind running in circles but finally it spilled out. "Can I borrow... some shoes?"

John Paul shot him a peciluar look but as his eyes traveled down he noticed that while his friend was dressed in his school uniform, his feet were in nothing more then a pair of black, mud splattered socks.

"Yeah, sure," John Paul nodded as he reached under his bed and removed an extra pair he had. "Can I ask why you walked halfway across the village in only your socks?"

"I hate the B&B," Craig clenched his teeth as he took the shoes from his friend and began to pull them onto his dirty feet. "The bloody place is smaller then my own bedroom at the Dog, which by the way I don't even have a bed. I'm sleeping on the godforsaken couch!"

"Yet" John Paul still was confused, "that still doesn't explain the whole barefoot marathon across the town."

"I don't have any privacy," Craig sighed as he laced up the pair of shoes, "and... this morning I woke up and Darren kicked me from the bathroom. I got mad which caused me to-"

"Oh god, Craig!" the other boy gasped. "Did they see you?"

"No," he shook his head, "but I pissed mum off right good in trying to get out of there. Being angry at me for being an ass is a lot less worse then finding out I'm a freaking mutie."

"The lesser of two evils," John Paul shrugged.

"Listen," he gestured to his new footwear with a guilty look in his eyes, "I'll just use these for today and then I'll give 'em back."

"Their Matthew's old shoes," the blond smiled, "don't fit me but apparently their fine on you. Keep them."

"John Paul I couldn't," Craig insisted.

"Consider it an early birthday gift," the boy smirked. "That way when I am cheap on your big day I can use this against you. Now turn around so I can get dressed."

Turning his back on the boy, Craig waited barely two minutes and some very rushed ruffling before John Paul gave him the all clear to look again.

The other boy was just pulling on his tie and buttoning up the last length of his shirt when he reached behind the bed and tossed an old, ratty looking gym bag onto the duvet.

"What have you got there?" Craig asked.

They didn't have physical education this semester so he had no idea why John Paul would be lugging such a large container to school for something other then kicks.

"Just my equipment for tryouts today," the boy nodded. "Didn't you hear the announcement the other day?"

"I tend to sleep during the announcements," Craig tried to suppress a smile but he knew it wasn't a well kept secret that most everyone used those boring fifteen minutes every morning to catch a few extra winks. "Side's my sports gear is back at the B&B. Mum sees me anytime soon she'll be serving my head on a sliver plater for dinner."

"Come on!" John Paul goaded him. "I'll just ask Matthew if he could swing around the B&B and grab your bag for you."

"He'd do that for me?" he had to find that a little hard to believe.

"Well," the former tried to suppress a leer as he shot Craig a look, "he'd do it to check your sister out. Hasn't stopped talking about Steph Dean this and Steph Dean said that."

"They only spent five seconds together," Craig wondered, "before the Dog caught fire. How the hell does he fancy her after only that?"

"Don't ask me," John Paul laughed. "The McQueen girls are known as guy crazy, maybe its the same with the men?"

* * *

Craig searched into his bag, knocking shin pads, socks and shorts out of the way in his quest for what he wanted. The sharp spike of a cleat into the palm of his hand hinted that he had finally found his left shoe.

Withdrawing the item he tossed it onto the bench beside him before returning to find its counterpart.

"Wasn't sure you'd still be up for this," John Paul smiled as he dropped down onto the seat beside him, "I've seen you play at the pitch before."

"I know I'm not the best but it might be a laugh," Craig snickered. "Might even make me feel better about being back at school."

"Still before you get carried away..." John Paul's warning hung in the air.

"I know turning up doesn't promise me a place on the team," Craig humored him, "but looking forward to it."

"Great," he smiled back, "but I wasn't talking about that. Are you sure you can be out on the field without having a 'change'?"

"I don't know," Craig sighed, "last night was close but hopefully playing will burn off that extra energy and aggression I have. Less energy, less changing around."

"I see you've thought it all out," John Paul laughed.

Going back to the mission in his bag Craig suddenly snatched a particular item from the collective mess.

"What?!" Craig shouted, holding a pink sock out with a look of utter disgust on his face.

"Cute," John Paul giggled. "Pick him out yourself?"

"I can't take that B&B any longer," Craig moaned, "the woman keeps mixing my stuff. I mean what's that," he shouted, holding the hated sock out like it had some deadly disease. "That's not even mine!"

"You've got two minutes," Coach Havey roared into the locker room, quelling all other forms of conversation with a deep Scottish bellow, "and then I want everyone outside!"

Both boys quickly began to grab their gear, tossing on shirts, lacing up sneakers and strapping on shin pads. In their preparations they didn't however miss the arrival of Sonny, the look of glaring indignation in his eyes at seeing Craig could only be matched by the throbbing bruise over the greater portion of his chin.

"Oi, Dean," Valentine wasted no time as he threw his bag onto the opposing bench, "you know that cheerleader auditions are next door, right?"

"Did you know he was going to be here," Craig muttered to his friend.

"Yeah," John Paul shrugged.

"Then why didn't you say anything?" Craig's voice dropped to his trademark hiss.

"You said yourself you were looking forward to this," he surmised. "Maybe this will be the chance to clear the air with him."

"By what, bonding over the beautiful game?" Craig sarcastically spat. "The guy hates my guts or did that swing he took at me last night knock some sense out of you. He has-"

"Unless you're talking tactics, I suggest you all zip it," Coach Havey interrupted them as he loomed overhead. "This is enough chat'n ladies, the season starts today. Any not prepared to give me a hundred and ten percent can leave now. Do I make myself clear? One minute!"

"You'll be fine. Just gotta give it a shot," John Paul whispered before turning and walking off. "Hoggy got any tape?"

The moment John Paul departed to search for some tape, Sonny used the opening to swiftly insert himself into the boy's absence.

"I didn't know this would be your thing?" Sonny laughed, a hearty yet blood curdling sound.

"Didn't you?" Craig inquired more out of courtesy then interest.

From the terrible look in Sonny's eyes he most likely still smarting after last nights encounter but even if he did remember Craig punching him, he wasn't using it for his usual verbal triad.

Craig silently hoped that he didn't remember much, especially Craig's fist going through the 'change'. If he had he wasn't letting on.

"Oh I love it," Sonny coldly replied, "being part of a team. In it together. Worse thing though. See when the guys don't like someone they make their life hell. Guess you thinking why you even hear, do you know what I mean? I'll see you out there. Oh, don't forget your shin-pads."

* * *

"Come on! Push it!" Coach Havey shouted, clapping his hands and chasing after the boys as they raced down the length of the field. "Look lively Johnson!"

"And why are we here," Amy Barnes laughed as she watched a good portion of the male student population rushing to the beck, call and demands of the Coach.

"Fit lads in shorts," Michaela smiled beside her, eyes a few individuals that had abandoned their shirts to catch a good cold breeze that was rattling around the field.

Across the lines Craig rushed for the ball, the black and white hexagons of its surface was all he was focusing on. So attentive in his goal he missed Sonny sliding in for the ball, and taking Craig's legs out from under him.

Grass and dirt quickly rushed up to grind into his face as he lost his balance, pain blossoming into his vision as he fought to get back up. In his absence Sonny had already taken the orb and was off, scoring a goal and living up the praise like a thirsty dog.

"Oh that had to hurt," Amy commented at Craig's misfortune.

"What are you doing here?" John Paul yelled as he rushed up to the two, abandoning his post on the defense line that thanks to Sonny had seen very little action.

"Scouting for talent," Michaela smirked. Her eyes scanned the field and her eyes caught on the atrocious sight of Craig's legs. "Ew, look at him. He's got a pink sock on. What's that about?" Sonny intercepted her vision and Michaela thoughts quickly dissolved into lust. "Now that's more like it. Why don't you introduce me to your fit friend."

"MCQUEEN!" Coach Havey bellowed at the loss of his second defensive line. "On the pitch now!"

"Go home," was all John Paul shouted as he returned to his position.

"Whatever golden balls," Michaela waved as he retreated, sticking her tongue out at him for good effect.

John Paul's return was barely six-seconds old when Sonny raced in for another ball and Craig being only a foot away got an elbow in the stomach.

"Ever get the feeling you just don't belong?" he cackled, retreating with the ball as Craig sent him a black look.

"Five minutes then we go again," Havey announced, gaining a few smiles from the team at the sound of a possible break.

Craig limped to the sidelines, welcoming the dry grass against his backside as he let his scream calf muscles relax.

John Paul used Craig's distracted state to insert himself beside the boy.

"Why you letting him push you around like that?" Mcqueen asked.

"Letting him!" Craig whirled around, wincing as the muscles in his neck even protested movement. "It's not your leg he's trying to break!"

"So he's hit you a few times," John Paul voiced "hit him back."

"Oh right, good advice," Craig faltered, "that worked so well last night when I knocked him cold. You should have let me know he was going to be here!"

Enraged by the entire exchange Craig stalked off, muttering and cursing as John Paul let him have some time to blow off his steam. Watching him go he spotted a particular view that made his stomach churn, his little sister getting a little cozy next to Sonny, running a hand slowly over the chest of his shirt.

"Oh you know," Michaela laughed, a seductive tone in the sound of her voice, "you're the best player on the pitch."

"Is that right?" Sonny drank in the praise with a smug leer.

"God, what is she doing?" John Paul muttered as he jog up. "Hey!"

"Get off," Michaela groaned at her older brother's arrival.

"I thought I told you to go," he repeated his previous statement, to which Michaela gave him a dirty look.

"I'm making conversation," she said matter fact.

Knowing that Michaela always wanted to assert her dominance like her older sisters, John Paul couldn't help himself with a nice

"When Michaela was four she had an imaginary friend named Princess Michaela," the superior look of victory John Paul gave his sister left her mouth hanging in shock. "She cried when she had to split up."

"That's cute," Sonny sniggered at that bit of childhood memories.

"John Paul!" Michaela shrieked, the offending remarking hitting the bulls-eye.

The girl huffed in resentment, making her departure as her porcelain skin turned a deep scarlet. John Paul briskly filled her spot as he pressed close to Sonny.

"Thought you said you were going to go easy on him," he muttered, gaining the other player's attention as he watch the Mcqueen girl stomping off.

"What?" Sonny dismissed his accusation. "I'm trying to do is make the team."

"Yeah," John Paul accepted, "but so is he."

"I know he's your mate and everything but I just don't like him," Sonny held his ground, giving John Paul a dark glare. "He thinks he's better then everyone else. He doesn't fit in."

"BACK ON THE FIELD, LADIES!" the rumbling roar of Coach Havey's voice reached them on the far side of the pitch and without a second glance back Sonny launching back onto the grass.

* * *

Sonny dodged right, left, spinning the ball over his feet as another player attempted to intercept him and failed horrible as he sidestepped, leaving the boy totally in the dark.

"Let's go Sonny. Take it home. Take it HOME!" Coach Havey screamed, the admiration he was pouring on Sonny happily accepted and used it to fuel him onward.

The goal was within a few steps, the white net totally absorbing his concentration like a welcoming background waiting to receive his conquest.

He pulled back his foot, dipping his toes and putting all his force behind...

Craig rushed in and caught the ball in a pounding punt, the black and white globule sailing down the field. Racing after it the entire field erupted into cheers and chaos, the opposing team rushed to fill in the gaps around their goal while his own players scrambled to follow behind him. John Paul rushed up beside him, blocking the attempt by another player to retake the ball, using his body as a moving shield.

But it was too late, the rush to back Sonny up in his victory shot had left only the goalie to block his path and the man had become too enthralled by the revelry of the game and had ventured to far outside of his position to get back in time.

It was a clear shot and the only sound the preceded the hooting and hollering of a gained point was the ball slamming into the intertwined fabric of the net.

Everyone screamed, either in failed anguish or victory.

Craig was among the latter, pumping his fist in the air at his success...that is until Sonny's fist slammed into the side of his head.

* * *

"BREAK IT UP," Coach Havey howled as he pulled the boys off of each other, "BREAK IT UP, YOU WANKERS!"

Sonny Valentine was throttled back, tossed into the restraining arms of his team who kept him from launching at Craig again.

On the ground the victim whipped the blood from his lips, staring up at his teacher as the enrage man leered down at him.

"Hit the showers you two," he ordered, "I won't have children on my pitch!"

"But-"

"NOW!" Sonny's protest fell on deaf ears and with a groan both boys removed themselves from the field, both shooting dangerous looks at the other.

* * *

The orange cones were perched in his arm as he walked over the blacktop, muttering under his breath as he approached the back exit of the locker room.

Nancy however headed him off before he even rounded the corner of the building.

"Oi, where'd you go last night?" she clamored to catch up with him. "I come back with a whole pub for you guys and you ditched me!"

"Nancy, I'm so sorry," John Paul apologized thoroughly, realizing that in their haste last night they had left her total in the dust. "Sonny took a swing at Craig so we'd just left."

She mulled over the excuse for a second before finally casting him a worried look.

"That boy is not going to let up on our Dean?" Nancy surmised.

"I've tried talking to him but..." John Paul's word hung in the air.

"Well, I just hope he calms down a bit after that fight," she pondered.

"Not so much," John Paul shrugged, "they go into another brawl on the football pitch."

"I bet Havey loved that," Nancy moaned.

"I'm going to check on them right now," John Paul began to withdrawal himself from the conversation. "I'll call you later tonight."

"Alright!"

Rounding the corner he was so happy to be gone of that girl. It wasn't because he disliked Nancy but she was in the way of reaching his goal, making sure Craig or Sonny didn't kill one another.

However again another interruption made itself known.

"Please tell me you're not waiting here for Sonny!" John Paul groaned as he found his sister leaning on the ramp railing up to the boy's locker room.

"Not that it's any of your business," Michaela whistled at him.

"Why is it always older lads?" John Paul had to ask.

"What's it to you?" Michaela sighed.

"Just go on," her brother held his ground, like any Mcqueen he was not to be deterred.

"Do you mind if I don't?" she glared at him. "Oh, John Paul you're so talented when you win the DJ competition. Oh, John Paul you're so courageous, running into a burning building to save your friend. Blah, blah, blah. Does my head in!"

"So what do you want me to do?" John Paul reasoned as much. "Turn the gig down?

"You're so prefect aren't you?" Michaela mocked him, tilting her head like dim witted ninny.

"What's exactly your problem?" he sneered, knowing that with Michaela, there was always more then there appeared.

"The only fact I could be invisible," she spat venomously, "for anyone to care."

"So this is really all about you then?" the older sibling leered at her. "Yeah, there's a shock.

"You haven't a clue what its like?" Michaela sadly announced, her eyes bearing into his soul.

"I'd swap places with you any day," John Paul stared right back at her, cynicism rolling off him, more hurt then anything she could pull that card with me. She knew how much he felt out of place in this family, how he was congratulated if he got an A+ on his homework while his siblings were lorded over for stopping fires, ending a deadly storm or walking through down power lines to save a bus full of children.

"Yeah, when you get a job in a club and mums upping the pride," she sarcastically mumbled. "When I get in with light still outside I get a smack on the head."

"Yeah," he ridiculed her, "none of which is my fault."

"No," Michaela slowly stared to depart, "never is John Paul."

He huffed at her departure, always wondering how she was going to twist a situation to her advantage or how her hormone driven angst was going to blind her to the real situation at hand.

The splatter of something on the ground caught his attention, his eyes looking downward to catch sight of something red splattered on the bleach, white concert. It only took another droplet, sailing down into his field of vision.

* * *

"If I don't make the team your dead," Sonny screamed, throwing himself down onto the locker room bench as he slammed his elbow into the wall behind him.

"You were hacking out at me throughout the game," Craig shouted from the opposite side of the room.

"Why'd you have to ruin this for me, eh?" Sonny seethed. "The only thing I can stick at in school!"

His rant cut off as the locker room door opened and both prepared for the worse. Coach Havey or the headmaster could be coming in to berate them for they're embarrassing fight on the field. Instead however it was John Paul, orange cones in hand and a sour look on his face, entered.

"What are you doing here?" Craig asked.

"Havey canceled the trial," the arriving teen reported, sending Craig a pungent look and both him and Sonny knew the reason why.

"How'd he look?" Sonny asked, trying to gauge how much trouble they were in.

"How do you think!?" John Paul shouted back at him.

The reaction was enough to fuel Sonny more, launching him off the bench and right into Craig's face.

"Now this is your fault!" he boomed as his nose hovered just inches from Craig's.

"Just shut up!" Craig argued.

"Come on!" Sonny looked at him lasciviously. "I'll ask you again! Why are you even here? You do get it that no one likes you. And John Paul's only your friend cause he feels sorry for you!"

"Give it a rest, Sonny!" the aforementioned individual yelled.

"No," Sonny hollered, "I want him to know what everyone's talking about behind his back. How he failed his exams and he's stuck here! You're a pathetic joke. But hey what can I expect given your family!"

The air was tense, so thick it could be cut with a nice. Hate, rage and evil poured out of Sonny's eyes as he stood toe to toe with Craig. John Paul was expecting the worse, another repeat of last night.

But Craig didn't retaliate, another swinging punch didn't follow, no violence ensued.

He ran...

Sonny cackled at the reaction, enjoying how he had sent his rival into retreat.

His victory was short lived as another fist smashed into his face for the second time in twenty-four hours. He clutched his bleeding nose, shrieking in pain as unlike last time he was conscious to feel the fresh pain exploding into his head.

Looking up he didn't see Craig standing there, holding his own in defense of his family...it was John Paul.

"Leave my best friend alone," the boy yelled, "you worthless git!"


	8. Chapter 8 Forgotten Jailhouse

He opened up the bathroom door.

The hinges groaned loudly but John Paul could still heed the labored breathing, hidden in one of the four stalls that dominated the far right wall beyond him.

Being that every door but the last was ajar; number four was his best beat to find his wayward friend.

"Craig?" he rapped his knuckle against the chipped blue paint portal. "You in there? Are you alright?

No response nevertheless the moment he uttered the word '_alright_' the breathing hitched, a sob escaping unseen lips. It was enough of a hint to let him know who was on the other side.

"Come on mate," again he landed his knuckles against the barrier, "answer me."

"Just..." Craig drew in a haggard and strained breath, "just gimme a minute."

For more than five-minutes John Paul just leaned back against the stall door, waiting as the endless heavy breathing continued to rise and fall. But after so long he was not calming down, in fact the respiration was starting to increase in speed and strain.

"Craig, come on," banging again, John Paul was starting to loss his patience. "You either let me in or I kick the door in."

The breath wavered, holding on for just an instant, leading up to the lock on the door clicking open.

Not even waiting for it to totally reach the full of its curvature, John Paul slipped inside and pushed the door closed. In the overhead florescent lights almost glared of Craig's features, the chrome of his face was locked into a frown of nervous displeasure.

"I can't get it to go away," Craig scratched anxiously down the length of his arms, sliver finger nails grating over the skin, making a metallic sound. "I keep trying to calm down, think of something else, even will it away but... it won't stop!"

He was losing it, running his hands over every inch of his exposed skin as if searching for the zipper to pull the armor from his body. Craig's eyes were staring at him with a pleading edge in them, like somehow he'd hold the answer for him.

"Okay," John Paul forced his hands onto Craig's, fighting for a moment to get him to a halt, "just take a deep breath and stop."

He tried to resist him, a glare crossed through Craig's eyes but it quickly suppressed after an immediate thought as he realized his friend was just trying to help.

"It won't end," the boy whispered, pacing the tiny cubicle, "it just keeps coming back."

"Sonny just got to you," John Paul rationalized against his friends flustered state. "Just give yourself some time to get your head back on and you'll be fine."

"No," Craig muttered softly. "Every time I change it's harder to go back. I'm... scared that one day I won't be able to."

It pained him to see Craig so strained. He was like a caged lion, trapped and seeking any possible escape. Fingers continued to run over his skin, creating a grating sound that was agony on John Paul's ears as he watched the scene unfolding before him.

"Okay... okay... okay..." John Paul vindicated. "You only change when your stress, afraid or angry. It's a defense mechanism. Most mutant powers are! You just have to learn how to control it like everyone else does."

"It's too hard!" he continued to fight.

"Just look at me," Craig voice was a controlled roar of indignation, jabbing a finger to his face. "There's nothing to be afraid of here. It's just you and me, no Sonny what so ever."

"Alright," Craig gave a moan. "Just a... um... deep breath."

He drew in a deep gulp of cold, ammonia smelling air into his lungs. It tasted horrible against his tongue but he still tried to push all his worries, preoccupations and concerns down into a tight little ball inside him.

But instead of the iconic shiver that rolled across his skin whenever he was delving between his armored and human form, a sudden aching began to spread through the joints of his hand.

It wasn't uncomfortable as it was peculiar, until suddenly a shooting pain throttled up his left arm.

"Yeow!" he screamed, his fingers locking into a fist as the torment rising in his palm.

"What's wrong?!" John Paul was concerned as Craig suddenly jumped back, as if he had stuck his hand into a blazing fire.

But Craig regardless was staring down in fright and shock at what was unfolding in front of him.

His hand seemed to wrap and twist, seemingly flattening and spreading outward. Craig could only gawk down in a mixture of disgust and horror. John Paul was equally as astonished as his friends hand began to elongate and extend.

They were so trapped in stunned silenced the transformation caught them off guard when it abruptly accelerated.

Like a knife being unsheathed, Craig's entire forearm transformed into a sharp, glittering blade nearly a meter long.

"Oh my god," John Paul reached out as his classmate began to panic, hyperventilating as he stared at his entire limb mutate into some kind of organic sword.

"No!" Craig clamored to put as much distance between them but in his brisk endeavor to back away his bladed appendage came down on John Paul's arm.

So quick and so sharp it happened in an instant but all at once John Paul was pulling away, clutching his left limb.

"God, John Paul!" Craig screamed as he saw the crimson slash that ran down the length of the blonds' arm. "I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean... are you okay!?"

"Its fine," the boy lied even as he pressed his arm into the gradually oozing wound. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"I'll... uh..." Craig paused as a shiver ran down the span of his spin, the chrome exterior over his face melted away and his hand slowly retracted back into his human form. In barely an instant the normal Craig was standing before him, though the fear was still present in his features.

"I'll get a doctor," Craig suggested as he moved to get around in the tiny stall. "Just wait here."

"No!" John Paul threw his uninjured arm into his path, halting his exit. "Doctors are out of the question!"

"Bloody hell their out of the question!" Craig shouted, trying to make sense of the situation. "I sliced you! I nearly stabbed you like a freshly roasted holiday turkey. Do you really intend to walk around the school bleeding on everything?"

"Just shut it and follow me okay..."

9999

Getting out of school in barely their team uniforms was nothing short of a miracle. The locker room was still full of rowdy and rambling team members dressing back into their day clothes. Trying to retrieve their own bags would be impossible without someone taking notice of John Paul's injury.

Be that as it may, getting across town was even worse, dodging through back alleys, through backyards and all the time trying not to draw attention to them.

By fair or foul they managed to reach the far side of the village, farther than Craig had ever ventured in all the years he had lived in this community, before one of them finally had some sense to ask the other where they were going.

"John Paul, where are we going?" Craig was lost at where they had gotten to, the houses looked similar to everywhere else in the village but the street names and the landmarks were entirely alien to him.

"Can't go to a human doctor," he sighed, still holding his gash between his fingers, the escaping blood staining the tips of his digits. "Too many questions. One bright idea in the lab and you, me and everyone I know gets themselves sectioned."

"So we're going to a mutant doctor?" Craig asked as he trailed behind him.

"Kind of," John Paul shrugged.

They ducked down another side alley, into the darkness between the shops and down the narrow path. He was about to ask again what was going on when suddenly John Paul made another quick turn and then another. The backstreet just became darker and further lost between the buildings, some point along the way they plummeted down a flight of stairs.

His sense of direction was gone on so many levels when finally the dark passage dissolved and standing before them was the tallest man Craig had ever seen.

Craig had to stare right up and still the bottom of the man's chin was all he could make out, that is until he looked down at Craig with a pair of bright red eyes that just seemed to burn in the dark.

If he had ever had a moment where wetting his pants was an almost certain inevitability this was one of them.

"Leave 'em alone, Toni," John Paul grumbled, standing toe to toe with the giant without a concern in the world. "He's with me."

"Lucky him," Toni's voice sounded just like the low rumble of a truck engine, just prefect to go with his massive bulk. "He causes trouble like your sister's boys, it's on your head."

"Deal," the youngster nodded and reluctantly, with a direct glare of fire at Craig, Toni stepped out of the way.

Through the cargo freight door the pair went, clamoring down the stairs as the limited security lights gave them some leverage in the dark.

"Who that hell was that?" Craig whispered the moment they were out of earshot of the towering behemoth of a door man.

"Oh Toni?" John Paul smirked as they continued down the last few steps. "Nice guy, a little on the intense side. Likes to channel the intensity of David Beckham. Jac and him use to go together for a while 'til they nearly killed each other."

Craig laughed. "I know your sister is intense but-"

"No really," John Paul interrupted him, "they tried to bludgeon each other like Manchester United after losing the World Cup."

"Oh," knowing his past experiences with Jacqui, that didn't seem so farfetched from the truth as the two of them passed through a short hall and on into a large underground room. "What is this place?"

"Welcome to Nines," JP established as he escorted Craig through a few small cocktail tables and to an old wooden bar on the very far side of the room.

It was empty, barring a few patrons scattered around the room doing their own individual thing there was practically no one here. Middle of the day, middle of the week, secluded as it was, Craig wasn't surprised. A weekday during the day at the Dog was much the same.

"It's almost like the Dog," Craig mumbled, noting the tired oak counter top, the upside down beer steins hanging from the above head racks and the smell of split alcohol in the air.

"Think of it like Il Gnosh," the fellow grinned as they came up to the empty counter, "the SU Bar and the Dog rolled into one... for mutants only."

"And this is where," Craig gestured to the bar around them, "you're going to find a doctor?"

"Hopefully," John Paul flashed him a smile. "He's usually here to make a quick buck.

"John Paul, what can I do for you?" both boys quickly cast their eyes towards the bartender that approached them, a man probably just over the hill but still holding onto his hair quiet well. The man's face however became downcast as he noticed the one boy clutching his arm. "I'm guessing a band-aid is not one of them."

"Do you know where Neville Ashworth is?" John Paul inquired.

"Behind the curtain," the bartender tilted his head towards the large velvet curtain off to the side of the bar. "Dealing with that daughter of his."

"Thanks, Hugh," John Paul expressed.

"Can I get you a drink?" the man asked. "Looks like you could use one."

"No," John Paul politely shook his head, "can you just tell Neville we need to see 'em."

"Yep," Hugh accepted as he moved off, a second later he was gone behind the curtain without a second glance back.

"Why'd you tell 'em no to a pint?" Craig reached out to give his mate a friendly knock on the shoulder... that is if John Paul had flinched away, holding his bleeding arm a bit tighter.

Craig quickly withdrew his fist and realized his folly.

He was about to give John Paul a whack with the same hand he had used barely an hour ago to inflict that wound on his friend.

So stressed about everything in his life he could have gravely hurt the boy without a second thought.

"Are you afraid of me?" Craig eyes couldn't look at John Paul directly.

"No, I'm absolutely wizard," John Paul laughed, though it wasn't carrying any humor in its sound.

For more than a minute they didn't speak, they didn't move, they didn't even look at each other.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you," Craig sighed. "You know I'd never do that on purpose. Right?"

"It was involuntary," John Paul tried to justify his reaction, even throwing in a smile to quell any fears his friend may have had. "I'm sorry, Craig. Are we still best mates?"

"Of course we are!" Craig beamed before he mulled over the words John Paul had just spoken. "You just called me your best mate."

"Don't go all sappy on me," the blond laughed.

"No," Craig waved off the macho mask his friend has just tried to pull over, "it's just I've never had a best mate before."

"Well," John Paul chuckled, "just don't go putting anymore holes in me and we'll be fine."

"John Paul," both of twosome looked up as Hugh came out from behind the curtain again. "Ashworth will see you."

Nodding a thank you, Craig held the wall hanging out of the way to give John Paul better access, and more so as to not use his damaged arm.

Inside was merely a worn out couch, well passed it years where it once was most likely a very plush piece of furniture. On one end state a dark haired man, dressed in merely a fine blue button down and a pair of jeans, who looked totally out of place in this dark and seedy bar.

Just standing up from the other end was a young girl, charming blond hair pulled back into a pony tail, slinging a backpack over her shoulder as she made ready to leave.

"First-rate," the man sighed as he rose to give her a quick hug before sitting back down, "tell your mother I'll cover her shift."

"Thanks, dad," the girl smiled before she started to turn a leave, yet stopped when she noticed the two boys in the door.

"Oh hiya," she giggled as her attention varied between Craig and John Paul, linger on the fellow blond then on the dark haired one in particular. "I'm Hannah. We have classes with me, don't you?"

"Hannah," the man raised a strained voice and shot her a look, "_go_."

"Going, going," Hannah sighed as she made a perturbed exit. "Be seeing you two around."

The room was silent for just long enough for the man to be sure the girl was gone before he turned his attention to the two lads before him.

"What can I do you for today, boys?" he waved a hand to the couch and tough John Paul quickly took the cushion beside him, Craig choose to continue standing. "Looks like you had a bit of a spill."

"It was an accident!" Craig was quick to defend himself but when he remembered that the man didn't need to know all the particulars of his screw up, he shut his mouth.

"I bet it was," he muttered under his breath. "Well I'm betting a note you came here for help from me."

"I know it's without notice," John Paul tried to play fair and flash a smile to win him some points, "but if you could help I'd be willing to repay you. I just can't go to the hospital again. They'd get suspicious."

"It's alright," the older gentleman returned the grin. "Your oldest brother and sister did a number for those kids down in Chester who were using their powers to turn tricks. Heard Jac took the fall to keep 'em out of being sectioned by the government. Consider this just paying it forward for the cause."

"Thanks," John Paul gratefully nodded before turning his eyes back towards Craig who seemed to be sulking out of the conversation. "This is my friend, Craig Dean."

"I am well aware who he is," the man nodded before extending a hand to Craig. "Neville Ashworth, I know you step-father-"

He trailed off as Craig made no move to shake his hand.

"Sorry," the boy was quick to apologize but his hands were already tucking themselves behind his back. "I just don't trust myself right now... you know what I mean?"

"More then you know," Neville smiled as he withdrew his outstretched fingers. "Now let's have a look at the damage."

Slowly John Paul pulled back his hand and Craig finally saw the true damage he had done.

John Paul's skin looked like torn paper; a jagged line ran across his lower biceps and across the better part of his forearm as black, crusted blood framed the wound. Craig had no idea he had done so much damage and was genuinely surprised after how horrible it looked; John Paul still continued to deny its severity.

"Is it going to need stitches?" Craig asked.

"Certainly not," Neville laughed as if it was the silliest joke he had ever heard.

Yet Craig could only stare at him dumbfounded.

"You are a MP, right?" the boy asked incredulously.

"Far from it," the fellow laughed again.

"Neville's a healer," John Paul offered an explanation to Craig's growing annoyance. "He'll have me out of here in no time."

"Better believe it," the bloke beamed before stretching out a hand and slowly running it down the length of John Paul's injury.

If the lights weren't so dark and his attention to the wound he had inflicted so clean, he would have missed the sudden glow that swelled in Neville's hands, or the responding glow in John Paul's skin.

Unhurriedly, the dermis began to crawl inward, the dried blood and some still wet, began to dissolve away as Neville continued his work around the gash.

"So I see Hugh's put in a new DJ booth," John Paul piped up as the process continued, not mesmerized or interested in the re-growth of a good portion of his skin.

"If you're nice maybe he will let you on it sometime," Neville grinned as he peered his eyes around to stare at Craig. "First time in here?"

"Yeah," Craig spoke after a beat, still a bit confused by all that had happened. "I don't even know what this place is."

"Nine is a mutant safe house," John Paul looked up at him as he explained. "Think of it as the underground mutant railroad running right under Hollyoaks."

"May not seem like it," Neville added as he continued to run his glowing palms over John Paul's laceration, "but we're at the crossroads of the entire network and dozens of mutants are moved through the village every day. Hugh's a bloody brilliant man, though considering this place is ninth in the safe-house chain, he could have thought up a better name for it, if you ask me."

"So this is like all the news channels," Craig understood, "like BBC keep talking about, helping mutants escape the cities to hide in the country."

"Those journalists are mardy," Neville gave a low cackle. "Actually it's both ways. Trains come and go in all directions, so do we. Cities like London, Birmingham, Manchester and Liverpool are huge, great places to disappear if you're coming from the countryside and need a place to hide. So many faces you get lost in the crowd. Same if you're exposed, we get you out of the cities and into the country where no one knows ya."

"And since Hugh has a _captive_ clientship, he converted this old store room into a bar of sorts. Best place to hang out for those mutants that can risk being out in the daylight."

"Are you kidding?" the older man snickered. "Once the Special Restriction Rights Act passes we'll all be in hot water. Mutants can't be in plain sight. People don't like us and even the most liberal and progressive members of Parliament are reluctant to give us any leeway. Everyone thinks well just blow the whole country and the Queen mother to feck... there all done!"

Looking down Craig was astounded as John Paul gave his arm a good flex, without even a hint that mere moment ago it was a bloody mess.

"Good as new...."

999

He slide around the door, cursing the hinges of the ancient door as they squealed from age. After leaving Nines they had managed to sneak back into the locker room, more because Craig had transformed and crushed the lock, and retrieve their school clothes. By the time he had separated from John Paul, it was long passed his curfew and even the full moon in the sky had begun to drop in the sky.

The living room was pitch black, save for a single lamp glowing on the coffee table. He had hoped that by the time he had returned everyone would be out cold, yet there sat his mother, wearing a cream white bathrobe and fluffy slippers, rolling a chain of rosary beads between her fingers.

"You're late," it was all she said but the glare that bore into him spoke volumes.

"I'm sorry, mum," he knew he was caught between a rock and a hard place and had hoped that he'd at least have until morning to come up with a decent excuse. What came out of his mouth was barely worth a second thought. "Me and um... John Paul got caught up at practice and-"

"I was around the school," she interrupted. Craig inwardly winced. "They said you got into a fight with that Valentine boy."

"Sonny was on my case again," he mumbled, trying not to meet his mother's gaze as he kept the couch and coffee table between himself and his mother. "I'm sorry that-

"What's wrong with you, Craig?" she didn't even bother to wait for another excuse. "Starting fights, being so secretive, disappearing without warning. Are you on drugs?"

"No!" he shouted defensively. "God no, mum. It's just that-"

"Tell me what is going on?" Frankie repeated, locking him with those pleading eyes. "Don't lie to me. Just tell me."

What could he do?

Tell her everything that was going on in his life, how he was a mutant, how this afternoon his arm had turned into a living sword, how he had nearly impaled his best mate on said sword or then spent the day in a secret underground mutant bar on the outskirts of Hollyoaks.

It could be easier, just get everything off his chest, sit here and cry out his heart, unburden himself from everything that was burning up inside of him. Maybe his life would be something close to bearable... and maybe he was absolutely insane for considering anything of the sort.

He had been at the breakfast table when those news stories had crossed the radio or television screen, heard his mother utter those horrible things about those 'dirty mutants' or 'genetic freaks' wanting more then they deserved. Her rant about how they should all be rounded up and put in prison, he knew what giving her that kind of information would result in.

"I can't," it was the quickest, easiest answer and the one that was going to cause Frankie to react with the least anger.

"Craig!" Frankie tried to suppress a cry of anguish. "This is just too much. You can tell me anything!"

"Not this," Craig shook his head.

"What's wrong," she continued to press. "I am your mother."

"Why don't you go worry about Jake!" Craig's temper finally got the better of him. "He's the screw up of this family anyway so go bother him!"  He had lashed out, looking to hurt someone as badly as he felt every day. He hadn't intended for it to be his mother, he had been merely looking for an outlet and with her incessant prying he had finally just snapped.

She didn't yell, didn't react as he had anticipated.

The normal forthright and headstrong Frankie had merely fixed him with an unemotional gaze.

"Dress nice tomorrow," she rose from her chair and slowly made for the bedroom. "We have a meeting with a headmaster before classes."

And without even a look back she was gone and Craig was left alone...

9999

Fingers flew over the keyboard, so fast that they almost become a blur of movement with no discernible detail or substance. Matthew tried several times to follow but in the end it only made his head hurt and his eyes ache with no actual results what so ever.

And then they stopped, a pair of hands resting before the computer and finally Matthew was able to make out the forward appendages of his friend.

"Bollocks," a thick Welsh accent cursed, tossing himself back into the leather couch.

"Huh?" the McQueen had to blink back to reality, "What's wrong, Ifan?"

"I can't blow through this coding without something heavier," his companion shrugged. "This hospital must have reinforced their serves with the new firewall protection systems the EU's been turning out since last year."

"Can't you just hack the entire system?" Matthew pressed.

"You're joking, that would be brilliant if I didn't mind blowing out every neuron in my body in the process," Ifan smirked. "That would require me to put several hundred gigabytes inside my head in under a minute. Can you fit an entire library inside your head without it exploding?"

"If you aren't going to do it," his friend darkly replied, "then I'll just have to break in to the hospital and manually delete them myself."

"Isn't your family's record with the coppers already a mile long," Ifan stared right back without flinching against Matthew's steely gaze. "I'm sure your mum would just love to have her pride and joy reenacting '_Bad Girls_' behind closed bars."

"I'd watch what you say bout '_Bad Girls_' round here, Ifan," a voice called out from behind them.

Both whirled on the intruder standing in the door way, a smiling Jacqui slowly moving into Matthew's apartment with her hands in her pockets.

"Jacqui!" her brother tried to hide his outrage but it was overshadowed by the shock of her appearance. "How did you get in here?"

"I'm a magnokenetic, your locks are metal, you do the math," his younger sister grinned, before turning her gaze to the dark haired boy on her brother's couch. "Ifan Gardner, I haven't seen since they had you sectioned."

"Beastly as ever, Jac. It's called going to uni," the man grinned in annoyance, "you should try it sometime. I'm sure HCC needs another janitor."

"Cheeky," Jacqui responded.

"I thought you were going into the village with Mercedes?" her brother pressed.

"She and Russ were snogging each other like kids in heat," she explained, throwing herself down on the couch opposite Ifan. "I had to get out of there, thought I'd come see what you dim boys are up too... So, what are you doing?

"Nothing," he reached across the table and snatched Ifan's computer shut before Jacqui had a chance to even glance at the screen.

"Matthew," Jac tried to feign a laugh, "you may be my older brother but I can always tell when your being shirty."

He could dodge the question again but surely that would only entice Jacqui further. McQueens were usually the type that when a door says _'do not enter'_, their first ones to walk through. Better to fess up and get her to back off.

"We're deleting John Paul and Craig's hospital records," he admitted after the fact.

"I can understand," Jacqui gave them both a peculiar look, "getting rid of all traces of Craig from government records but why do we need to worry about John Paul. He's human."

"Not according to a certain MP," Ifan laughed as he took back his computer and reopened the device.

"Knew his X-gene just needed a kick in the backside," the woman laughed as she fell onto the couch opposite the boys.

"Well until it makes its grand appearance," Matthew nodded as he regarded his younger sister, "I'm making sure my little brother is safe from anyone that would hurt him."

"And you actually believe I was going to let you get into trouble without involving me," Jacqui nearly cringed in mock distress. "Matthew, I'm hurt."

"Well if you can figure out how to crack their encryption codes that would be amazing," Matthew grumbled as Ifan continued to type away on his computer at a mile a minute. "I thought you were a technopath."

"Can you run head first through a brick wall?" Ifan playfully punched his friend in the shoulder. "Hacking a computer is like picking a lock on a door, you have your simple home desktops which are like screen-doors, company networks who's firewalls are like hardwood doors with big fancy locks and government systems who have freaking titanium vault doors."

"I can't hack a computer... let alone turned on the microwave without shorting it out," Jacqui quipped as she wiggled her fingers at the young man. "But ever held a really big magnetic against a computer."

"A walking electronic memory wipe," Ifan laughed. "Wizard!"

9999

Craig adjusted his back against the hardwood bench and pay particular attention to a scuff on the floor. Beside him his mother was dressed in an immaculate white suit, hair well done and staring a head with a practiced smile.

"What's taking so long," Calvin Valentine commented from the far side of the room, his brother Sonny standing aloft against the wall behind him as if just being here was a bore.

"Look, we're not your enemies," Frankie's intoned, trying to gain some leverage with the situation. "I can understand your feelings towards Jake but Craig, it's just not fair to make him suffer."

"Listen, Sonny's not the one in the wrong," Calvin defended his brother. "Craig started on him that night at the club. He's just acting out because of our mother, what's your son's excuse."

Frankie shot him a glare. She hadn't known about that one and Craig had really wished she would never have to know.

"Only because Sonny drove him to it," Frankie returned Calvin's accusation with as much focus vigor as the man's.

An indignant snort burst from the other side of the room as all three members turned towards the forth.

Sonny gave them all an incredulous glare, shaking his head with a smirk on his lips.

"He's been making my Craig's life a misery!" Frankie argued, fixing the boy with a steel gaze.

"Mum!" Craig shouted.

He wanted so desperately for her to just be quiet, for this to blow over. If maybe he kept staring intently ahead, he'd be able to walk out of this school with most of his sanity intact. That is if his mother didn't help to push the issue over the edge.

"I'm sorry," his mother sighed as she tried to appeal to Calvin, "but look it's got to be said. Do you realize what he has been through? He's failed his A-levels, his home has burned down and he's forced to live in a rundown B&B."

"And our mum was killed in a hit and run," Calvin launched in rebuttal, "or have you forgotten that?"

The color drained from Frankie's face and Craig sat in his chair a little more rigid as the older Valentine's comment sank in. For a moment no one spoke but both sides of the argument meet eyes and refused to budge.

"No," Frankie breathed after a second, "of course I've not forgotten that. But it's still no excuse for bullying."

"I didn't do anything to 'em," Sonny bellowed from his side of the fight. "He's just a patsy who's lying through his teeth like you lot do and I'm sure the head will see it actually the same way."

His self assurance, entitled arrogance just seemed to germinate into every inch of the room and it made Craig sick. He knew he had everyone convinced the Dean's were nothing more then a family of murders, rallying around a man who had taken a life and gotten off free of punishment.

No matter what Craig could do, Sonny would continue to lie through his teeth...

An idea sprung in his mind, possibly his only chance to gain some leverage.

Sonny had never specifically defended himself in front of Calvin and he believed he knew why.

The door of the headmaster's office and a young secretary stuck her head out into the waiting hall for the four people staring up at her.

"The headmaster will see you know..."

9999

He was on a triple shift, second time in a week without the prospect of leaving his workload any lighter from all the extra hours spent here. The life of an MP was never easy, all those myths about doctors being so high paid and living in the lap of luxury were so far off it was ridiculous.

What he wouldn't give for just once to have some money in his pocket, a lovely girl on his arm and a pint in his hand.

"Excuse me?" he looked up straight away as a vivacious brunette in an all too constricting halter top leaned a bit farther than necessary over the check-in desk. "I've seemed to have taken a slip and hurt my finger. Can you help me?"

"YES!" he was a bit too quick to respond, nearly dashing around the desk to help the young lady as she presented a thumb wrapped in a wad of paper towels. "I'm Doctor Cartwright! What seems to be a the problem?"

"I cut myself at home," the young lady with the most startling eyes he had ever seen stated with a pout. "Could you take a look at it?"

"Of course," he was more than happy to oblige as he delicately grasped the woman's hand and took a close look under the makeshift bandage. "Oh, it doesn't look bad. Lemme get some gauze and we'll clean you right up."

"So sweet of you!" the girl giggled majestically. The doctor gave he a bright smile before he disappeared off to get whatever he needed yet the second he was out of sight the lady dropped her prize winning smile for a sour express. "You better tell me what the hell I'm doing here, Jac!"

"Consider it repayment for stealing my shoes while I was behind bars, Mercy" Jacqui winked as she slide passed her sister with Ifan in tow.

Mercedes knew she was defeated and felt horrible that she was technically betraying Russ in a fashion for what she was pulling but in the end, it was more for his own protection then anything. She had 'borrowed' a pair of Jacqui's shoes worth nearly three hundred Euros, that is until Carmel decided to liberate them from Mercedes for herself and ended up destroying them after one night in the village.

What Mercedes hadn't bargained on was that when she had taken the shoes she had joked that Jacqui could have a round with her boyfriend if she didn't return them. She was enchanted when her older sister had come to collect and hadn't declared her lover up for try outs.

But still there was something fishy going on here and like any McQueen, she hated being out of the loop.

"Now play nice with the dumb doctor who can't tell the difference between a two pound hooker's blood and something from the butcher's shop," Jacqui giggled as she breezed past her sister. "Move it Ifan."

Around the desk they both skirted, through the employee's only door and quietly sliding it shut before the dim witted doctor being lead around by his second 'lower' brain, could return the couple found themselves inside a cramped dark room with many a humming computer server lining the wall.

"Okay, this should be the backup patient's hub for the whole hospital," Ifan undid the laptop he had strapped in his bag and quickly placed it on the nearest open surface. "Brilliant work but sloppy execution."

"If you wanna play some queer techno version of Home Makeover, be my guest," Jacqui grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him back to the work at hand. "But we have work to do in the meantime."

"Alright," Ifan nodded as he began to type away at a blinding speed, numerous files and equations exploding onto his computer's screen as he delved into the system. After barely a minute he had two particular files opened on his desktop. "Okay, I can't access your brother's and Craig's files but I can tell you what servers they are located on."

"You sure if we do this it won't hurt anyone else?" Jacqui cast a glance back at the door, wondering if at any moment a constable was going to burst through and arrest her.

"This is just a bloody compact library," Ifan laughed as if her fears were the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard of. "None of the main servers or life support systems run through here. So no you won't kill anyone. Just hit the third from the left and we can go home."

Tracing her fingers along the rows of black serves Jacqui found the one he had indicated.

"This one?" she asked and upon receiving a nod from the other man, placed her hand on the face of the computer.

At first it merely seemed nothing was happening but quickly the hum of this particular device began to rise above all its companions. It squealed like a bird reaching the height of its song, becoming a pain for Jacqui's ears to bear.

And then it reached climax and sputtered a sickening violent sound.

"Brilliant work, Jac," the Welshman clapped as his screen suddenly updated to show the now blank hard-drive it was viewing. "System is completely corrupted. Remind me to call you next time I have to crash a supercomputer."

"Fine, fine," the dark haired girl nodded profusely as she ushered Ifan to the door, "but let's get outta here. I don't fancy being back in the slammer anytime soon..."

9999

"Well, you're lucky to get away with a warning," Frankie announced as the door to the headmaster's office slammed shut, leaving the group alone in the waiting hall. Across from her Sonny and Calvin quickly distanced themselves as she laid her eyes on her own son. "Especially you, you're on a wing and prayer as it is."

"I never started this!" Craig shouted at her, incredulous at her reasoning of the situation.

"Doesn't matter who started it," Calvin added his weight to the eldest Dean, "it ends here."

Such a declaration only sent a spray of dagger like glares between the boys. Neither Sonny nor Craig had any intent of making nice, too much bad blood had been built up between them and the hurt was still too fresh,

"Yeah, well you know what," Frankie shot her eyes between the pair of antagonizing, her son and his bully refusing to even look at each other. "I think you both should shake on it. Craig? Sonny?"

The air seemed to crackle with energy, the intensity became so thick you could almost cut it with a knife and even Calvin and Frankie could sense the tension rising. Sonny's eyes drew down to slits, Craig clenched his fists and stared hotly at his opponent. At any second either of them could snap and it was merely a waiting game until one went after another.

"Never," Sonny's voice came out just above a hiss of hatred before he was gone, disappeared around the corner without ever looking at his brother who was still behind him.

"Well, it's his choice," Calvin sighed as he started to follow after him, "but if you can't get on, just stay out of each other's way."

And with the Valentines gone it was just the Deans left to exchange furious stares.

"He won't bother you again," Frankie breathed a sigh of relief the moment she was sure the Valentine pair were out of ear shot.

"Yeah, yeah right," Craig mumbled under his breath, his feet starting to itch with temptation to leave this place as quickly as possible. "And in the mean time maybe pigs will fly."

"You're here to re-seat your exams," she continued to insist, "just focus on that, alright."

His temper was rising, his fury was building and his reign on his emotions was starting to dissolve.

"How?!" his voice began to rise as he spoke, the complete outrage in his voice beginning to spiral out of control. "Where everywhere I go he's there, breathing down my neck. I can't go on like this mum."

The tingling, he had to keep a control on his outburst or he'd be in big trouble real quick. Taking a deep breath he took a step back, willing his breath to slow and his heart to stop the thump-a-thump in his chest.

His mother watched him fighting to keep his control, shooting his a confused look as he started to pace the length of the waiting hall.

_This is only going to get worse_, Craig thought to himself, wandering the hall in anguish,_ there is no way outta here_.

His power or as he saw it, his 'problem' was only going to get worse. It was linked to his emotions, especially when he was in the throes of high stress. Sonny was just going to add to that stress, never ceasing, never stopping to make him as miserable as possible. Every second of the day he was in danger of suffering a transformation, school was merely being dangled out in public for everyone to see him as the dirty and dangerous mutant he was.

There was only one solution to solve such a predicament.

"I want to leave," he whispered.

His mother's reaction was loud and immediate.

"Over, my dead body!" Frankie shrieked, throwing her hands and handbag into the air. "You are the brains of this family and I've worked long and hard to give you this chance. I'm not going to let some schoolyard bully ruin it for you."

But Craig had already decided.

"I'm eighteen years old," he shouted right back at her. "I make my own decisions. The sooner I'm out of here the better..."

9999

"I don't get it mate," John Paul muttered as they trudged down the length of the cobblestone road. "Why'd you come back to school if you're just going to drop out again?"

"I'll just go straight to HCC," Craig shrugged beside him, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder for possibly the last time.

They had left school behind without a second glance, Craig had been quick to escape any further possible chance of encountering his overbearing mother after his declaration. She had tried to convince him, begged him and then eventually ordered him to stay and re-seat his exam.

All futile.

"Thought you had your sights set on Dublin?" his companion questioned as they moved through the village towards the Drive "n" Buy trolling for a afternoon snack. "You're a loser man."

"What like you?" Craig laughed beside him, quickly having to duck as his friend took a mock swing at him.

"Hey," John Paul chirped as they entered the convenience store, quickly splitting off to grab a soda as Craig went for a bag of chips. From one side of the rack he continued to talk as Craig searched for his snack. "I'm earning top dollar. Hundred quid a week at the Loft. Which puts me top of the McQueen family rich list."

"Which isn't hard coming from a family of losers, is it?" his friend giggled as he grabbed a green bag from the bottom shelf before bouncing back up.

"Don't go dissing my lot!" John Paul gripped as Craig fell back into step beside him, heading for the cash register. "Your Darren is the biggest sleaze ball going."

"Yeah right!" Craig laughed as they paid for their food and moved back out onto the street. "He's not my brother."

"He is and he's definitely a loser," John Paul nodded as they rounded onto the main vein of the village.

A laugh in the air brought their attention to the pair on the far-side of the street. It was Carmel and Matthew McQueen, still dressed in their white work uniforms as they held a light conversation with some man dressed in a suit.

His back was turned towards them as they approached, though from the jovial nature of the gather made it apparent they knew the man well enough.

"And she ain't?" Craig gave a sidelong glance at John Paul as his sister dissolved into hysterics, bouncing her head back and forth as the bright blond pony tail riding high on her head threatened to explode.

"She's alright," the brother to said bimbo shrugged as they approached. "Just got short changed in the brain department."

"Oh, John Paul!" Carmel had finally sighted them, wave her hand fanatically in the air to attract their attention.

That was the third, unknown companion of the group turned to look at them.

Craig was floored.

There stood his brother, at least it was supposed to be his brother.

He was wearing a suit!

The Jake Dean he knew was a bumbling drunk who consistently boasting about the horrid state of the world and how he was constantly being dumped on. If life chose someone to be the poster boy of misery, Jake would have been the first in line.

"Well I don't believe it," Craig muttered under his breath, nearly tripping over his own feet as he couldn't help be shell-shocked by Jake's appearance.

"Come on," John Paul gave him a good nudge to get him moving.

Reluctantly Craig approached the group, trying not to meet his brother eyes as they joined the gathering. After all the bad things he had said about his brother, all the fights, it was too disconcerting for him to look the man in the face.

"Hiya!" Carmel greeted them in her usual bubbly way, springing a wide smile and flashing those pearly whites.

"What's so funny?" John Paul asked, offering his brother and sister a nod but sending an unknowing gaze towards Jake. The last time he had seen this particular Dean he had been passed out in a burning building.

Carmel, in her usual oblivious way, didn't seem to notice.

"Jake was just telling me about this job he went for," she announced in a delighted voice. "Driving horse poo around all day. No wonder you didn't take it!"

"Sounds like the prefect job for a bloke of your training and sophistication," Matthew added in a sarcastic chuckle, ribbing the fellow along.

"Funny," Jake laughed a bit uncertainly however quickly turned his attention to his younger brother. "Hear you've decided to leave school, mate."

"Mum got to you?" a quick nod from Jake confirmed his fear that his mother was most likely trying to enlist the entire family in trying to reverse his decision. "Sorta."

"Well, a climb down for you isn't it?" Jake laughed as he playfully elbowed Craig in the side. "Joining the workers are we?"

"There are some jobs going at Price Slice and that Kohl's center!" Carmel was quick to help out. "With your brains you'd get something dead right on. Like supervisor or trainee manager."

"Heard their some openings over at Bailey's," Matthew offered up. "Don't mind shoveling turnips for spare change, do ya?"

All the prospects were grim but in the end it was probably going to be better then being discovered. Being discovered versus living a life of obscurity would be so much easier, at least if he hid in the background the chances of being exposed as a mutant were slime though the life was far from luxury.

But still even he could better then a turnip farmer.

"No, no thanks," he tried to be gracious though it came off a more perturbed.

"What you're getting choosy already?" the old Jake was back and he sprung at the chance to take his usually superior brother down a peg or twelve. "Being a bit of a baby, can't deal with little Sonny getting on your last nerve?"

"Shove off, Jake!" Craig bellowed at his brother's pompous attitude. "You have no idea what I go through because of you!"

"What's that suppose to mean?" Jake replied in a guard tonality.

"Driving horse manure around all day?" Craig voice slide down to barely a rasp as he assessed his brother with contempt. "Did you just say you didn't take it or they wouldn't hire you because they knew what happened last time you were behind the wheel of a car?"

The moment Jake broke the gaze shared between them Craig knew he had hit the mark right on the head. He should have felt quickly for pulling his brother's failure out into the public eye in his own sense of perverse vengeance but right now he was riding the wave of moral superiority for the first time in weeks.

"That's what I thought!" the youngest Dean hissed. "Don't judge me because I have to deal with the fallout of your screw up. I could have resat my exams without once having to deal with Sonny but I couldn't deal with it, every waking moment being tortured by him as I watched my entire life play in rewind. If you even-"

"I think we should go!" John Paul tried to interrupt, landing a hand on Craig's shoulder but was easily shaken off.

"No!" Jake unexpectedly bellowed as he locked his brother's forthright gaze with his own. "If he wants to say this, let him say it. He's started off enough times and petered out before he even finished off. If he wants to say it, then he's welcomed."

He was so ready to lay into Jake, to let him know about how his colossus screw up had nearly destroyed what little bit of his life he was just starting to reclaim. The urge to inflict the pain on him that he had inadvertently bestowed upon him was so great, so powerful that all he wanted to do was just make him suffer for one blinding instant.

"Craig!" John Paul grabbed his shoulder, shook him free of his dark thoughts and forced him to finally come back to reality. "It's not worth it... especially after you _hurt_ your hand yesterday."

He caught the hint, ever so subtle that it was lost on all but those on the inside of this joke. How he had missed the tingling sensation as it slowly rose to a burning pain in his joints was beyond him but he knew it was a sign to back down, to leave and quickly.

"I have to go," Craig mumbled, taking a step back as he effortlessly slide his hands out of view.

"What you finally get your free shot and you walk away," Jake wasn't stopping. "Typically Craig reaction, runaway!"

But Craig wasn't listening, he was already walking away and out of sight as he spun down the nearest alleyway. John Paul was about to follow him when a hand stopped him.

He figured it was Jake, seeing the displeasure the fight had caused between the Deans and was stepping up to do some good or Carmel rushing to the aid of someone in distress.

He was totally unprepared when his brother Matthew stepped passed him.

"Let me talk to him..."


End file.
